


and the fourth flies

by grit



Category: Naruto
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Body Horror, Drama, F/F, For Want of a Nail, Friendship, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Moral Ambiguity, Mystery, Paranoia, Rebirth, Team Bonding, Trans Female Character, Unreliable Narrator, War, the general opinion seems to be "whacky idea but it works", there are happy stretches but it's not a happy world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-11 02:07:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18420627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grit/pseuds/grit
Summary: Here's a secret: Sakura isn't Minato. She isn't particularly heroic and she's definitely not a man.





	1. It ended at our fingertips:

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kosmeja](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kosmeja/gifts), [justanothercatgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothercatgirl/gifts).



> I'm in the process of editing this story

* * *

PART ONE. IT ENDED AT OUR FINGERTIPS:

* * *

Sakura blinks awake. Her chubby hands try to keep the sun rays falling into her face at bay, light dancing in her vision, and she tries to sit up – tries, but can't. Her muscles are too weak and the sense of something distinctly _other_ makes her shuffle uncomfortably in her bed. She reaches for her chakra and finds power thrumming dormant under her skin, but it's not her own.

Something is wrong. The world around her feels off and then she realizes – _she's_ the one out of sync.

Chakra coils through her limbs, every inch of her body and it's.... it's not hers.

Sakura is in someone else's body, a boy's body, and only the reassurance that she's a medic to the bone lets the grazing unease settle. She draws her blanket in closer with pudgy little fists she doesn't know to call her own and she screams hysterically at the walls of her crib until a woman comes to her, fussing, to pick her up.

The gentle rocking motions put a stop to the panic shaking her from head to toe. Calamity washes over her.The burn in her lungs lingers. She has an adult's mind, but she just died and woke up somewhere else, somewhere she doesn't belong, and if that doesn't warrant being hugged close to someone's chest, a mother's chest, then she doesn't know what else could.

“There, shhh. It'll be alright, Minato-kun,” the woman whispers at her, stroking the tiny puff of hair on her head.

 _Sakura._ She's _Sakura._

The woman has tufty dark hair and Sakura reaches for it, torn between despair and wide-eyed wonder. This is _real._

The woman laughs, a pearly white thing. She's most definitely not Sakura's mother judging by the amount of beds in the room she only just became aware of. She's not at the hospital, she knows hospitals – she's at an orphanage. 

A second chance at life and she doesn't even have parents to cry on, doesn't have anyone to help her deal with the trauma she is experiencing. Who knows where she is, who knows whom she can trust. She might be in Iwa for all she knows.

When she is softly let down, she manages to catch a glimpse of the name tag on the crib she is laid to rest in.

 _Oh no,_ Sakura thinks. _Please, no._ There's only one Namikaze Minato she's aware of. If she's right – it can't be though, can it? He's dead, has been for years and there's just _no way._

But it's real and Sakura deals with it. The way she's dealt with everything life has ever thrown at her. She had never been lucky, life had never been kind. Perhaps growing up with living parents was something of a blessing, but they died early enough for that to be tainted.

When Sakura closes her eyes she can taste the smoke in the air. She feels a slippery kunai in her hands and remembers the rubble beneath her feet. When she closes her eyes she's climbing into what's left of her childhood home again, sick with dread. The day of the invasion has burned itself into her memory. Her bony fingers are clutching that kunai tighter and tighter as she howls and lifts and searches. She's surrounded by ruins and smoke again, not realizing until well after she sees the corpses buried under the ceiling that she's wedged the kunai deep into her palms.

She had cried her heart out that day. It had taken her a long time to tear herself away from the site and to bury her grief. She'd faced the remnants of her team only to be slapped, hard, by reality once more: Naruto was leaving, Sasuke had defected, even Kakashi-sensei disappeared into black ops. She was all alone.

But that's a different Sakura's story. This time around there is no Team Seven to tie her down and leave her behind.

As a toddler she has literal ages on her hands doing little but struggling for control of her own body. She sleeps a lot and is enraptured with the most mundane things around her. Changing nappies is unpleasant, but it's better than having a full nappy, and at least she doesn't have to look at her penis for longer than necessary. A medic's detachment helps numb her mind, but the innate wrongness of her body keeps sending her into fits of despair. It's a tear in her heart and it hurts worse than a betrayal. She feels hollow, terribly hollow in this body.

Sakura's attention span is next to non-existent. That's both a blessing and a curse. But she's dedicated and determined, always has been fixated on something or other, so she doesn't let go of the world she grows larger sheltered away from.

The smaller children around her call her “Natto-chan” and that hurts, because it sounds a lot like they're trying to say Naruto. She really, really doesn't want to think about fathering the former teammate she thinks of as a dumb little _brother_ with a woman she doesn't know. 

But it's also sweet in a way. She starts to feel like a mother hen with the way they crowd around her despite being younger and barely articulate.

Sakura sets to work and gathers what she knows about the Fourth Hokage. She wishes she could write, but she's somewhere between one and two years old. Although she's a fast learner it's impossible to learn that fast.

Sakura recalls her Academy textbook well:

"Namikaze Minato rose to fame after developing a space-time technique that allowed him to make several spatial jumps in quick succession, earning him the moniker “The Yellow Flash.” The war hero of the Third Shinobi War became the Fourth Hokage and destroyed the Kyuubi, protecting Konoha at the cost of his own life."

She also remembers all the things left unsaid or obscured: The sealing genius, the roots of his techniques in the Second Hokage's teaching, Uzumaki Kushina, the real story behind the Kyuubi attack, the way Naruto looked far too old talking about his parents. She knows he was Jiraiya's first apprentice, that Kakashi saw him as a second father. Knows that the Third favoured him over Orochimaru, which was rumoured to be at least partly responsible for his defection.

The Fourth was also the only emotionally well-balanced powerful shinobi she's ever heard of.

Sakura snorts. Failed that one already, hasn't she?

* * *

By the time she's five Sakura has a chakra pool to rival her twelve-year old self – it's so unfair that boys get this predisposition, as if sexism isn't bad enough in this world – but she has the chakra now, and she's still a girl. Being a woman, a real woman, is where she always came from and that will never change.

Sakura hones her fine chakra control, practices moving leaves around her body, extending threads between her fingertips until she's wrapped herself into a tight cocoon that alters her appearance.

She marches straight into the Chunin section of the library, three feet taller and flashing a special code at the desk nin – being the Hokage's assistant had its perks, and certain protocols are as dusty as the village itself – and no one dares look at her twice.

Now that she's enrolled at the Academy she can rely on junior nin protective laws, meaning that she has the right to request a Yamanaka's expertise if they catch her, think her a plant and carter her off to T&I.

There's a war going on and Sakura is neither intent on becoming cannon fodder, nor does she want to be killed for being a spy she really, really isn't.

Sakura would never dare risk her life without that law, not trapped in this body. She crushed whole armies once but that was a very long time ago and she'd led a different life, a life with a lighter burden.

Sakura has a legend in her hands like clay, so she must work hard to be perfect, to be everything he was and she isn't. What if she screws up the future, selfish enough to make space for her own?

She pours over heaps of sealing scrolls and tries not to think too hard on what happens if she fails.

This library, Sakura knows it like the back of her cramping hand, blisters from practising calligraphy until she can't hold a pen, let alone a brush, an aching reminder of her duty. The library is one thing she's allowed to be familiar with, because even the classroom 1-B is on the other side of the building she once walked.

Her steps echo like ghosts through the school's hallways, mocking her. As if she's the one haunting it. She grits her teeth, shakes the doubts off, teaches herself to walk silently and is moved up a year. She turns six with little attention paid to it. As a gift, she collects herbs and buys other ingredients. She makes a cream against blisters, a recipe Hinata once swore by and one she's grateful for, especially when they start sparring and kunai throwing.

It's like her early Academy years all over again, except this time no one's pulling punches because she's a girl – they don't know better here, she tells herself. Sakura likes being treated like an equal, but this time around it's for all the wrong reasons. She bruises all over and feels like she barely keeps up with the worst of them, let alone smug-faced stern Uchiha fucking Fugaku.

Sakura's dedication to her goals is far beyond what even the clan heirs can think of. How would they? They're children. Sakura just... isn't. The stakes are too high for her to slack off so she carefully monitors her progress, glowing green chakra expertly hidden under her fingerless gloves.

She runs herself into the ground and spends just enough time sleeping so she doesn't blow herself up working on her sealing skills.

Sakura is a prodigy, one the Academy hasn't seen since the Sannin. She spends four months in class 2-A before she's transferred to sit with ten-year-olds slated to graduate next spring. They're kind enough to keep her in class 4-A for three terms so she doesn't immediately die entering the war as a Genin even tinier than the rest of them. Except it's not kindness, it's an investment in her skillset.

She knows kunoichi classes are rubbish, because they shouldn't separate based on gender and enforce stereotypes, except they don't even do that, they separate based on sex, and Sakura finds herself staring longingly after the other girls in her class. “Got a crush on Yuki-chan, eh, Namikaze?” An Inuzuka teases her and she blushes brightly.

She's older than these kids' parents, of course she doesn't have a _crush_ .

At least not until red-faced Uzumaki Kushina scowls at her new classmates, pronounced an Uzushio transfer and teased relentlessly for it.

Sakura forgets to breathe, doesn't remember how to, and wonders if Naruto's dad is destined to helplessly crush on his future wife.

 _Her_ future wi–

She splutters, and doesn't dare look at Kushina for a week. The redhead sneers at her like she's part of the bullies and she hides shyly behind her textbook, snatching a few glimpses of Kushina's hair – so silky, so pretty – before she quickly looks away again. Right.

They are never paired off in combat because Sakura is a hidden girl, so Kushina remains a distant, unattainable figure until well after they graduate. Sakura hides a new design for a barrier seal in her desk, one she spent months on, and hopes Kushina will make use of her gift. Kushina is only eleven years old, still trips over her hair sometimes, the second youngest after Sakura. But she's already a Genin. Sakura can't help it. She idolizes her. Kushina is _amazing._


	2. the fence gave way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sakura is neither dead last nor rookie of the year – those terms don't exist yet and she's glad for it. She loves Naruto but she'd probably end up strangling her teammates if she had to work with someone just as thick as him _again._

PART TWO: THE FENCE GAVE WAY

* * *

Sakura releases a long-suffering sigh when Jiraiya spots the new team waiting for him in the classroom. “Team Seven!” He yells. “With me!”

She picks herself up and trots after him soundlessly, her new teammates flanking her. One of them is the younger Hyuuga twin, Neji's dad, but much less sour-faced. The other girl is Uchiha Mikoto in all her flawless beauty and grace. Sakura is neither dead last nor rookie of the year – those terms don't exist yet and she's glad for it. She loves Naruto but she'd probably end up strangling her teammates if she had to work with someone just as thick as him _again._

Discounting Jiraiya-sensei she can consider herself fairly lucky. Sakura eyes him warily, hoping he won't be too much of a useless creep. He can't be older than twenty-five even with pelt-like white hair framing his face. Has he been to Ame yet? He must have. The war is slowly starting to die down. He wouldn't have been called back to Konoha otherwise and both Mikoto and Sakura wouldn't have been allowed to graduate if it looked like the fighting would drag on for much longer. Supplies are running low and even the Major Hidden Villages don't have endless resources. The soldiers are tired. You can steal supplies but you can't steal loyal shinobi willing to lay down their lives for your village.

Sakura doesn't believe she'll ever make him Naruto's godfather though. He did a shit job the first time around. In her first life she barely knew him. What she did learn did little to improve the whispers about his self-entitled attitude.

But Sakura has learned to respect his skills in sealing. It's a maddeningly complex subject. She wants to _read_ the scrolls he carries with him so badly, the ones he doesn't bother hiding because he's just that good a shinobi.

Jiraiya-sensei leads them outside and throws them to the ground in quick succession.

“Right,” he announces cheerfully, looking down at them with a mischievous quirk to his lips. “Your speed needs work if you want to keep up.”

Mikoto scoffs and sits up in a sprawl to face him. “If you didn't have anything to teach us, you wouldn't be here.”

Jiraiya scratches his chin thoughtfully as Hizashi adds matter-of-fact, “You're a Jounin.”

“Plus,” Sakura can't stop herself from butting in, “you'd make a very poor Jounin if we were faster than you.”

Their new teacher's expression falters. Are those _tears?_

“My Genin are bullying me,” he says, horrified. But then he grins, slaps them over the back of their heads and whistles approvingly. “This will be fun. Tsunade is going to be _so_ jealous. Minions!”

“Please don't call us minions again,” Mikoto requests sweetly, “Someone could file for misconduct and harassment. The Second was very specific about what to do with superiors behaving unprofessionally towards kunoichi.”

Jiraiya gulps like a fish. It's so comical that Sakura breaks into all-out laughter. Apparently it's contagious because soon even Hizashi is giggling.

“Introductions!” Jiraiya announces with a scowl. “I know I was supposed to read your files yesterday, but hey! I have a life, and you were not important until I became responsible for you in the field, so. Blondie, if you would!”

“Maybe you should lead by example, sensei. We don't know you either!” Sakura points out, perfectly logical.

“Uhh.” Jiraiya pats his chin again. “I'm Jiraiya of the Sannin, your new Jounin-sensei.” Hizashi draws in a sharp breath at the war-hero title. Jiraiya pretends he doesn't notice and continues, “I'm twenty-three and I specialize in battle sealing. I like pretty women and a fine cup of Sake off-duty. I don't like snakes. At all. My dream is to become a successful author.”

Sakura hums sceptically. That sounds far too sane coming from him. Oh, well. She follows suit. “My name is Namikaze Minato. I'm ten years old and I don't have a speciality yet. But I practised patching up wounds with chakra and I study sealing arrays.” She pauses, fumbling at her gloves, and quickly adds, “For fun. I like calligraphy, taijutsu and I dislike perverts.” That last bit is aimed exclusively at Jiraiya and she gleefully notices his wince. Tsunade and her do get along nicely, yes. “I want to become a frontline fighter to protect the Will of Fire.”

Mikoto continues flawlessly, not missing a beat, “My name is Uchiha Mikoto. I'm twelve years old,” held back at the Academy because her clan wouldn't risk its heiress being sent out during turbulent wartimes, “I study Genjutsu and I have been tutored in my clan techniques. I enjoy traditional dance and tea ceremonies. I can't stand bullies and I want to honour my Clan's name.”

Sakura peers at her curiously. Sasuke's mother is purposefully soft-spoken and confident. You couldn't mistake it for meek, even though she carries herself in a distinctly feminine way. There's an edge to her words and Sakura wonders where that spine disappeared to in her generation. Mikoto is a kunoichi and she's going to be dangerous. Sakura shudders, and Jiraiya, still crouching in the dirt, follows suit.

“Okay, you!” Their teacher says finally, pointing at Sakura's male teammate.

“I'm Hyuuga Hizashi. I'm eleven and I specialize in my clan's taijutsu style. I like tea ceremonies as well and I would like to keep my brother safe,” he says evenly. The boy's facial muscles twitch minutely to flash something of a smile. Sakura has to fight her own. He's cute. A carbon-copy of Neji that makes her heart ache, but he holds himself less rigidly and there is no harshness to his face despite his attempts to keep it neutral.

Sakura likes her teammates.

Jiraiya surges forward, gripping Hizashi's shoulders firmly. “The most important question is: Are you a boy or a girl? I honestly can't tell.”

Hizashi flushes angrily while Sakura pretends she doesn't wish she'd been asked that question instead. “A boy!” 

Jiraiya pouts, releases him and clasps his hands together. He flashes them a lopsided grin and a thumbs-up. “Welcome to Team Seven! We're going to have the _best_ of times!” He almost shouts that. Then he shrugs, spreads his hands and corrects himself with a grunt, “Well, at least I am.”

Sakura likes her teammates, but she doesn't like Jiraiya much.

* * *

However, the Jounin quickly decides that it's best if he tutors her in sealing after team practice. The other two are receiving instructions from their clans and Jiraiya knows all too well what it means not to have one. He looks at her and sees himself in a mirror. Except she's much more mild-mannered and quieter. Sakura knows he thinks her a giant dork, but that's okay because he still takes her seriously.

They spar in blurs of grazing shuriken, flips and twists and the occasional jutsu. Jiraiya knows a lot of them and he pulls all of them aside, littered in scratches from chasing the Daimyo's fiancé's cat through the shrubbery, a moody little beast that will only grow feistier with age. He's their teacher and he's earned himself the title. Unlike Kakashi, whom Sakura still has mixed feelings about. 

Jiraiya pulls them aside three months into their Genin career and thrusts chakra paper at them. 

Hizashi has an earth affinity, which is unusual for Fire Country but runs in the sharp-edged nature of his clan. He looks reasonably pleased about it and Jiraiya reassures him that he has a few earth jutsu up his ridiculously long sleeves. 

Mikoto's paper becomes soggy and then she drops it like hot coals because it catches on fire. Jiraiya thinks it's super cool that she has opposing natures. Sakura wonders if she developed a secondary fire affinity because she was not allowed to be her own person as an Uchiha. She wonders if there is more to the Great Fireball Technique than just a rite of passage, and she wonders how sore Mikoto's throat must have been until she mastered it. Perhaps that's where her deep voice comes from.

Sakura's own results are a relief. She stares at the evenly split paper in her hands, at the crinkles in her right half and the wet spot in the left. Wind carries over as a primary nature. She's glad Minato still has it. How else would she become anything remotely like his legend? She wears his body like an ill-fitting pair of shoes, and she has never been happy about that, but it's not like she has a choice. Lightning she assumes comes from him too, passed down somewhere in his genes. The water soaks little more than a small corner. She has tried recreating some of her favourite earth techniques with little to no success due to her wind affinity. Practising what little she remembers about water jutsu has been just a tiny bit easier and that's where she suspects that wet spot came from. She doubts she'll ever be half as good with water techniques as she was in her first life.

Jiraiya coos, jumps around in a circle like an idiot and praises her as if she's some genius. Sakura has to bite down hard on her tongue so she doesn't tell him that he's wrong. She's a fake and she'll never be who they want her to be, who Konoha needs her to be. Sakura isn't Minato, can never replace him and it hurts because Sakura tries, she tries _so_ hard -

Jiraiya, blessedly oblivious, pulls her in for a tight hug and even gets the other two to join. They stay like that for a long time and Jiraiya's hand glides through her hair. He tells her how proud he is, of her, of all of them and Sakura slowly goes slack in the embrace.

She doesn't deserve that warmth, not one bit of it, and she feels guilty for stealing this moment and countless others from the real Minato.

* * *

Jiraiya reads what he writes to them as campfire stories. Sakura was sceptical at first, but pleasantly surprised. His poems distract them from the deceptive calamity of the war – the danger of running courier mission to the western border, the southern border, the eastern border. 

The long patches of running are exhausting so they spend their time developing a code based on one of his works. Sakura has to grudgingly admit that his writing isn't half bad and that Hizashi has more of a knack for coding than the rest of them. He trains hard and keeps both eyes open for them until Jiraiya tells him to stop the drain on his chakra. Sakura is impressed by his maturity, something she's never seen in a boy that age. Hizashi cares for his team. He cares enough to listen. 

They all train hard and Sakura starts developing regular cramps in her hands from the brush strokes that Jiraiya drills her in. Firm muscle soon tones her body. She's a weapon, little more than a tool, but she thinks she's found her place. 

The Genin start sleeping together in the same tent, huddled together for warmth. Sakura doesn't remember ever being so close to anyone. She's always been fiercely loyal but she has real _family_ now.

That's a terrifying thought but Sakura loves her teammates. Maybe, just maybe, she likes Jiraiya too. It's complicated. He grows on you. Like fungus.


	3. to the forest.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But war creeps up on you, and often you don't notice what you've been missing all along. News of an impending massive offensive on Uzushio reach a rapidly besieged Konoha, and Sakura knows that it's already too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note that Sakura performs **nongraphic surgery** on herself in this chapter. She removes her genitalia. The scene will be flagged and if it bothers you, skip it or don't keep reading at all. This is fiction and your mental health is more important than knowing what happens next. 
> 
> Don't get me wrong: What Sakura does is self-mutilation more than anything else, and don't get the idea that this is how professional surgery works. If anything, what she's doing is a sign of desperation. It is meant to show just what dysphoria can do to you, and what it does to this sweet, rational girl. I thought long and hard about how to approach this topic, and figured that I would address it outright. [Here](https://healthcare.utah.edu/transgender-health/gender-confirmation-surgery/vaginoplasty.php) is a website that can give you more information on how gender reassignment works for trans women, because this? Is most certainly not going to give Sakura a vagina, comes with a whole lot of medical problems she can only deal with off-screen because she's a medic in a fictional world and basically has healing superpowers. Don't look to Sakura as an example.
> 
>  
> 
> Now, this is a very serious topic and important to her character development, but this scene is not the core of this arc. There's **much** more to read about, some of it very light-hearted, and I hope you will have a good time!
> 
>  
> 
> OH, and I made Anko the same age as Sasori and Killer B (born eight years after Mikoto), for one decisive reason: The timeline is a mess and I have stopped caring.
> 
>  
> 
> NOW GO DELVE INTO THIS LONG ASS CHAPTER I'll be here, waiting

PART THREE: TO THE FOREST.

* * *

But war creeps up on you, and often you don't notice what you've been missing all along. News of an impending massive offensive on Uzushio reach a rapidly besieged Konoha, and Sakura knows that it's already too late. That the people whom she could have saved just by passing on what she knows, the people she's been entrusted to keep safe, Kushina's family, _Naruto's_ family – they're going to die by the end of the week.

She doesn't think she can ever look Kushina in the eyes again, and she'd stay home, pretending she's a girl the way she pretends about everything else – but look where it got her – and Konoha needs every last shinobi to protect its walls.

Civilians like Sakura's parents once were – god, her grandparents must be here somewhere, her parents probably too, why did she never think of them before – civilians must be protected, sheltered, defended. They're the backbone of the economy, and it's Sakura's job to keep them safe at times like this.

So she drowns out the blaring alarm, struggles out of bed and fumbles blindly for her clothes. There is no time to tuck, so she has to contend with Minato's dick dangling between her legs and she feels vulnerable in ways she hasn't felt in a long time. Once this is over, she promises herself as she ties her forehead protector around her head, she will perform surgery on herself, risks be damned. As long as she doesn't have to feel that thing anymore, let alone deal with more of male puberty, she'll deal with any further complications. 

Determined and feeling a little bit better, she pulls the shaggy blonde mane she calls her own in this life into a messy ponytail that would have Ino screeching, throws her coat over her shoulders and straps her boots on tight. She's outside in seconds, rushing over the rooftops.

It's chaos, even though nothing and no one has breached the walls yet – the code flashed at her by some chunin tells her the enemy is fast approaching though, and the first wave will hit in an estimated thirty minutes.

With no idea where her team is, and little time on hand, she follows protocol and helps the genin corps herd civilians to the shelters by the monuments. She starts with the forgotten, the orphanage, because it hasn't been long since she moved out, because she knows those faces, and because she has a soft-spot for children a mile wide.

She carries two little ones in her arms, one strapped on her back, and brings them to safety just in time. The first in-village skirmish breaks out far, far below them and the Genin start sealing the entrances to the caves. The boulders close in above tear-stricken children, scared children and god, she thinks one of them is Anko.

Not every civilian family makes it, but this is war, and they have to think of the children first. Sakura throws herself into battle eagerly, pretending the orphanage won't be hopelessly understaffed after the siege, pretending she can stomach more ghosts in her heart.

She has her first kill in this body two minutes later, some Kumo Chunin swinging a ridiculously large battle axe. He's slow, and killing him is easy. His death gets his squads' blood boiling and she wonders if they don't realize that this is war, and they would not have been the first wave if their village cared about them.

The four of them are all dead soon after, no match for Sakura's agility, speed and jutsu arsenal. She barely relies on barrier seals for herself, but they're a good element of surprise if she's willing to sacrifice speed, and they shield her from incoming stray projectiles as she dances across the red tiles.

She sees a flash of red, chakra chains tearing through a poor Suna nin's throat and the next strand carefully wrapping itself around a crying baby. Kushina shoves it roughly into the mother's arms and continues strangling anyone wearing a hitai-ate that doesn't spell out Konoha.

Kushina is beautiful like this, she's fierce, but she's also angry, sharp creases tugging her brows down and a grim curve to her jaw. Sakura can't help but feel responsible for her losses, so she averts her gaze and loses herself to the thrum of battle.

She doesn't see Hizashi or Mikoto, and she tries to find comfort in knowing that they both lived longer than this invasion in her first life. When the fighting is over, and it lasts far into the next day's afternoon, Sakura drags herself to the Uchiha compound, because it's closer than the Hyuuga district. The guard takes one look at her and sends her away with a grumble. “Get some sleep, boy!” But he reassures her that Mikoto is safe, and that's all Sakura really cares about for the moment.

It takes her far too long to sprint to the Hokage tower, and she's incredibly grateful to spot Hizashi there nursing a shallow cut on his left arm. She's on him the next second and hugs him tighter than she ever has. “I'm so glad you're safe,” she whispers in his ear, and Hizashi softens in her embrace. “Me, too,” he replies firmly, and it flies right into the fluttering heart in her chest.

Jiraiya finds them later, still huddled close together. Hizashi is draped across her lap, napping against her chest, and Sakura glares at her teacher, an unspoken warning not to wake her teammate. 

He settles down next to her with a wince. “Are you okay?” Sakura blurts, and Jiraiya chuckles.

“Of course. There's nothing Tsunade and a good cup of Sake can't heal.” He looks battered and battle-weary. There are bags under his eyes and they're bloodshot. His limp carries over to his static posture, a sharp contrast to the broad smile plastered on his stupid mug.

She lifts an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“Don't tell your parents I said that,” he adds quickly, realizing that alcohol is bad advice for twelve-year-olds. “Or Mikoto-chan.”

“Sensei, I don't have parents,” Sakura tells him honestly and Jiraiya blinks, taken aback.

“Huh. Sorry, I er. Did not know that.” He draws his left hand's fingertips over his chin, in the way he does when he feels out of his depth.

Sakura smiles. “It's okay, Sensei. I never expected you to bother with our files. Your standards are lower than that.”

Jiraiya sacks over in relief, but then he processes what she said and jerks back upright, spine ramrod straight. He props his wrists against his hips and exclaims, “Hey!”

Sakura giggles and allows herself to relax. For a little while.

The next hours drag by slowly, and Sakura dozes off a few times on that street corner, not trusting herself to be alone yet, but too exhausted to stay stubborn and awake. The dark drapes itself over Konoha like a blanket. Tonight, they rest. Tomorrow they rebuild.

* * *

It takes their combined efforts a week to assess the damage fully, and another to finish the repairs. Not that much was destroyed, but a lot of foundations were shaken deep below the infrastructure by Earth Jutsu, and in some districts every building has to be checked and triple checked to make sure it's safe to enter, let alone live in again.

**\- WARNING: SELF-MUTILATION -**

Sakura returns to her apartment eight days after the attack, and the first thing she does after activating the security seals is look for her scalpels and her strongest pain medication. She spends an unpleasant afternoon masturbating and seals her sperm away in disgust. She wouldn't begrudge Naruto a chance at life, and she does want to be a mother some day. This is the least complicated way to achieve that, however much she hates every second of it. The methodical precision of drawing up arrays and the thought of what she's about to remove – namely, her dick – fuels her determination to see it through.

She had whacked every junior medic who even suggested self-surgery over the head with her writing board. It's a dangerous procedure in any case and should only be attempted when there is no other option. Self-surgery can maim people for life. Drugs impact concentration, control and precision as much as pain does, and that's the core of healing.

But this is a dire situation and Sakura is, next to Tsunade, the most formidable medic in the world, even though she hasn't gotten around to re-creating the Seal of One Hundred yet, too preoccupied with stalking Senju Tobirama's scrolls which she'd nicked from Jiraiya in a desperate attempt to understand even half of his techniques, let alone replicate them.

At this point she's not even asking for a vagina, she just wants _it_ gone.

She practices the most gruesome surgery she ever had to conduct – and it is something she has to do, has to do _right now_ – and by the end of it she has screamed herself sore. Not just blood pools between her legs and she downs her pain medication in a haze while her chakra accelerates the welcome numbness, her hands knitting flesh together, knitting skin together.

When she's done her surroundings are spinning and the blood loss has gotten to her head, but she did it and she may not feel whole yet, but she sure as hell feels more like herself than she has ever before in this life.

She drags herself out of her bed the next morning, pain shooting pitifully between her legs. Sakura inspects how the wound is healing, and it looks good, better even than she could have hoped – somehow she managed to recreate canals that are more like a woman's to replace the urethra, if not an actual vagina, but that's not important, not right now. She doesn't care for sex, never cared for it, and while she's still a long shot away from being real, she can walk comfortably now. Relieved, she takes a shower without most of the tension she's been carrying around with her since she became self-aware.

\- END OF SCENE -

* * *

Sakura has twenty-four confirmed kills to her name now, and is issued a field promotion. Hizashi is right beside her in his new flak jacket, while Mikoto frowns at them. She hadn't been allowed to leave her room during the attack, and she'd gone half mad with worry and spite by the time someone bothered to tell her her team was safe and alive.

She hates that feeling of helplessness as much as the rest of them, so it really shouldn't come as a surprise to her when Sakura huffs, wraps her arms around her and declares, “That's it. You're moving in with me.”

The Uchiha elders throw a tantrum but their teacher is Jiraiya of the Sannin, and in the end, three whole months later, Mikoto's things are cramped into Sakura's living room, neatly arranged in labelled boxes.

Two weeks later, with special dispensation to take a B-rank for her ridiculously overqualified Genin teammate, she cuts an inattentive Jounin's throat, and she's lucky to cash in his bounty and a Chunin vest right along with it back at home.

“Took them long enough,” Jiraiya grumbles and Sakura nods in agreement.

They run fewer missions together and part of it is because there are talks of a Peace Treaty, and partly it's because they're not Genin anymore, Konoha is stretched thin as it is, and they have to make cuts where they can.

Sakura takes a lot of solo-C-ranks. Most of them are errands to the different corners of the nation, outposts and borders. Others lead her deep into Intelligence, where her sealing expertise is needed since she's the obvious choice as Jiraiya's student, and nowadays he spends most of his time outside the village. Peeping on women, no doubt. Setting up his spy network.

She still hasn't found a drug that can help her kick off female puberty, but she supposes she can at least develop a mild poison resistance again. Training with Shizune had frequently saved her last time around, and now that she feels a little bit more at ease in her skin it's time to cover her weaknesses.

At some point after the war, Sakura runs into Orochimaru's lab with a few classified reports sealed away in the scroll she carries. She doesn't want to turn her back on him – for all she knows he's already a traitor and just itching to stab her in the back.

* * *

He is hunched over his desk, hair draped all over the place, and there's an odd mixture of smells in the air – Sakura can taste the familiar sterility of anaesthesia, but also richer nuances of fresh coffee and ink. 

“You can put that right there,” Orochimaru says listlessly, pointing towards a small blank spot on an overly crowded table. 

He doesn't bother looking up from his work, a complicated sketch of a machine of sorts possessively close to his body. His inhuman tongue sizzles, darting out of his mouth and Sakura belatedly realizes that he is tasting the air like a predator. Can he taste her fear?

Sakura decides that she's better off not knowing and tiptoes to the table, unseals the contents of the scroll and turns to face her childhood bogeyman.

She slides a sheet of paper across his desk. “You need to -”

He sneers at it. “Sign this, yes. They keep promoting the dumb ones. Tell me, brat,” he says sardonically, looking at her for the first time – and god, she's forgotten how otherworldly his eyes are, how insignificant they make her feel, “do you really think this is the first time I've received a missive? This is a research centre, not some half-forgotten department in Suna.” 

She stares at him as he signs the paper with an elegant scrawl, and he snorts at the way her hands are shaking as she takes it back from him. “Well, what are you waiting for? Scram. I'm busy.”

Sakura leaves the building light-headed from that encounter. She can't help but wonder. Since when does _Orochimaru_ wear lipgloss?

Apparently he tolerates her presence, because she's assigned courier missions back and forth between his lab, the Hokage tower, T&I and Intelligence every other day, and it's hard to miss a pattern like that.

One day, sugar-rushed from the sickeningly sweet meal Mikoto had called lunch and then forced her to eat, Sakura almost stumbles over Orochimaru's work delivering some notes. Her eyes are glued to the floor, a complicated sealing array drawn in ink, and she's stumped because this is Orochimaru – but this circle, it's all wrong.

“You have that array wrong,” she tells him before she can stop herself.

He glances at her and sighs, propping up his elbows on his desk and interlacing his fingers much like Tsunade used to do when things became serious, but with him it feels like she is privy to a moment of weakness. Orochimaru, she found, is very different from what she expected.

“If I had gotten it right, brat, that experiment wouldn't be labelled as a failure,” he notes drily, tapping his thumbs together, then twisting his hands apart, bony fingers holding up a paper sheet. Giant red-stamped letters glare at her.

“Oh,” Sakura says brightly. “What was it supposed to be exactly?”

He eyes her suspiciously, but his answer is upfront. “A way to suspend a water body above ground and anchor it there.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Do you want me to draw it up correctly for you? It's really very simple, see... You just have to change the layering, move the northern node to the inner circle and switch out a few elements.” 

Orochimaru stares at her like he's seeing her for the first time, and she can almost see the wheels turning in his head. She nervously tucks her hair behind her left ear and attempts to smile. “It's too blunt, what you're using right now. You're trying to defy gravity – that's far too chakra-intensive. Instead, you need to work with it and reverse-engineer it to a point that serves your interest. I can help you with that,” she offers again. And, just to check, “This isn't for some secret unethical experiment?”

He laughs darkly, not dignifying that last bit with a response. She's... not sure she wants to know.

Orochimaru seizes her up with all the fascination and satisfaction a spider has left for its trapped prey, and Sakura shifts uncomfortably on her feet.

“You're Jiraiya's brat. Interesting,” he assesses finally, tongue flickering out as he stretches himself around his chair, contorting his body in a way that shouldn't be possible for a human being, and Sakura swallows, hard. He untangles himself with a smile that's just a little too broad and decides: “I like you, little Chunin. You may stay.” 

Sakura, once she's out of his office, clamps down hard on her flight instincts and manages not to fall into a run until she's up on the nearest rooftop.

The next day, she's assigned as Orochimaru's temporary lab assistant with a groan. As if she doesn't have enough to worry about on her own time. She's _just_ begun to make progress with the Hiraishin.

Mikoto, the traitor, has the gall to laugh at her.

* * *

Sakura sulks. Her teammates have a more clear-cut path with ANBU. Officially, they're part of the Chunin corps, but Mikoto is an intern at T&I and on the fast-track to an assassination specialization. Hizashi spends his days in the dusty Intelligence building and his nights shadowing his brother as part of his ANBU guard.

And Sakura, Sakura's supposed to be training for the up-coming Jounin exams. Which she does, because she'll be damned if she turns fifteen still a Chunin. But with Jiraiya in deep cover for months now she hasn't had anyone to bounce ideas off, so her progress with her sealing skills feels ridiculously sluggish.

She wears Tsunade's seal again, this time at the back of her neck, and she stores Chakra in it every morning when she meditates.

Sakura has never had more respect for the Second – and Naruto, the cheeky little genius – than when she first tried to gather wind chakra in her palm and send it spinning.

Good thing she can reattach limbs without a trace within a certain time frame, or she'd be royally screwed. She resolves not to do stupid experiments again until she's absolutely one hundred percent sure she's going to succeed, success meaning not maiming herself.

One thing she loves about Minato is that his body is built for speed. She doesn't have the bulky muscles of her old life and she doesn't have to, because she's able and willing to use Tsunade's strength to replace any mass she lacks. Minato is so fast it's exhilarating, and as she breathlessly dances across training grounds like a whirlwind she wonders if this is what Sasuke, felt, a lifetime ago, always faster than everyone else.

That thought echoes in her mind like nostalgia. She hasn't thought about Sasuke in years.

But now that she's pacing the hallways of Orochimaru's research facility Sasuke lurks and lingers behind every corner. She can't help it, it's just the Snake Sannin. He isn't half-mad with scorn, and sure, he might be cranky and still fucking dangerous, but he's genuine.

It's so bizarre that on most days he's a cross between Shikamaru, Temari and a whole lot of dry wit. It's so bizarre that she finds herself enjoying his company, his efficiency and his dedication to his projects. She sees little Anko again, a feral thing with adoration in her eyes, trailing after Orochimaru like a lost little lamb and it's almost cute if Sakura ignores the future, ignores how much he will end up hurting her.

She can't let her guard down, she _can't._ Even if she wants to.

* * *

Her paranoia is proven right two months later, but not in a way she had expected. They throw a little party for Hizashi's birthday – he turned fourteen, but he was on a mission and besides, his twin brother usually gets all the attention. But they throw him a party and by complete chance, Sakura, the only one who hasn't been drinking, volunteers to return him to the Hyuuga estate some time after three a.m. 

She carries him in her arms and Hizashi drools on her the entire way, babbling about how pretty Mikoto looks. Sakura just shakes her head in exasperation and dumps him on the unsuspecting branch member guarding the compound.

Sakura has zero regrets, until a long strand of red hair on the side of the road in the civilian district snaps into focus.

Immediately, she knows something is wrong, because not far behind the first hair there's a second and a third, and Kushina's smart, she doesn't frequent the civilian parts of town – she's leaving a trail.

And with a single-minded focus, Sakura _runs._ Kushina is in danger, and she needs her help.

She chases the trail out of Konoha's boundaries, not thinking twice about the lack of official approval. Deep in Fire Country's thick forest, she comes to a halt. The trail goes on, carefully laid out, but the footsteps are fresh – reading them is something Pakkun taught her once upon a time – and Sakura knows she will have to be very, very quiet now.

Her mind is whirling with possibilities and suddenly she feels incredibly stupid. She hasn't alerted anyone, hasn't called for backup, who knows if she'll be branded a missing nin, who knows if the people who took Kushina are going to kill her in the middle of nowhere between Tanzaku Gai and Konoha, and _get away with it?_

She forces herself to calm down, and draws her chakra in close, cloaking herself in an illusion. She soundlessly travels the next two kilometres, body tense and alert, ready for an ambush at any time. But the four people in front of her have their backs turned, blessedly unsuspecting, one figure significantly smaller and a vibrant redhead.

Sakura would sigh in relief as she edges closer, but she has to keep her breathing under tight wraps so it doesn't give her away. She suspects two Jounin-level threats, one Special Jounin. 

This is going to be a challenge, Sakura admits grimly, but if she can be quick – 

She throws six projectiles at the same time. One of the Jounin – Kiri, Sakura registers – knocks the ones aimed for their heads away, but she is not far behind with a cutting Jutsu and a chakra-enforced punch. One kunai buries itself on the ground next to Kushina, and she drops in a low crouch, reaches for it and uses it to cut through her restraints. The other three kunai erect a barrier around her in that same moment, shielding her from the fight until she's ready to cut in. 

The best thing, Sakura agrees with her later, is that one of those kunai uses the rapidly cooling body of the third cutthroat shinobi as an anchor point. He's dead as soon as it buries itself into his head.

Meanwhile, Sakura can't relax at all because she's engaged in a battle that's so fast she has difficulties tracking her own movements as she exchanges a volley of punches and kicks with the two Jounin in tandem.

She has to keep them on their toes, because one of them has a sword strapped to her back, and Sakura doesn't have to look twice at it to know that if the Kiri nin draws it, she's done for.

Wishing for simpler times, when Swordsmen of the Mist were rarer to come by, Sakura spats lightning attacks to counter their water-based ones, and dodges a kick mid-air, twisting around it and thrusting her hands down to use the male shinobi's body as a means to launch herself even higher. She also plasters a chakra-binding seal on him and descends with grim satisfaction on his partner, who's waiting ready with her blade.

What felt like ages were really only seconds, and Sakura has never adored Kushina more than when chains wrap themselves around her and drag her out of the way of the woman's sword, effectively saving her life.

Sakura recovers quickly and pivots on her heel, palms digging into the dirt when she somersaults back into the heat of the fight. She throws herself at the woman in a frenzy, trusting Kushina to have her back with the other guy. In the end, she gets her with an overpowered wind jutsu to the face, but she has to stop for a moment to heal the deep gash the swordswoman had gifted her with.

“Some help you are,” Kushina snorts, smashing the screaming Jounin's body into a nearby tree with a sickening crunch. “What kind of half-wit goes on a high-priority rescue mission without backup and has to be saved in return?!”

Sakura flushes crimson red in embarrassment and confusion. High-priority? But Kushina's not done yet, chains whipping through the air around her. “Namikaze Minato, the smartest boy of his generation,” she mocks. “You're _so_ dumb.”

“I'm,” Sakura blurts. “I'm not a boy.”

She sneers. “Well, you're not very manly.”

Sakura wants the ground to swallow her whole. She takes a step towards Kushina and trips over a dead body, arms flailing wildly to prevent her from joining the swordswoman on the ground.

“That's not – I didn't mean that,” she insists and fiddles at her gloves. Great, now she can't stop herself. “I'm a girl,” she finishes weakly.

Kushina jerks back momentarily. Then she shoots her an unimpressed look. “Good for you?”

They seal the bodies in some blank scrolls Sakura carries with her, and make their way back to Konoha in an awkward silence.

“Sorry,” Kushina says quickly and quietly with an apologetic smile, just before they reach the gates. She shrugs and spreads her hands. “I was being a dick. Thank you for helping me. Weird idiot girl.”

Sakura splutters. “Of – of course, Kushina-san!”

Thankfully, the guards on gate duty escort them straight to the Hokage tower, where Sakura can think of other things than her stupid, stupid coming out story.

* * *

But she feels lighter, and that carries over to the next few days. Kushina had _smiled_ at her, and she didn't question her gender. It's not a love confession, you'd think it would be with how happy Sakura is, but it's a start, and it's acceptance.

Sakura turns fourteen herself soon after, and she hauls herself into research.

“You're in a good mood lately,” even Orochimaru tells her. “Did Jiraiya die and I wasn't invited to the funeral?”

Sakura almost chokes on the fumes surrounding them. They're doing something to their brains. They have to. Orochimaru is not supposed to be funny.

“I'm trying to isolate hormones from this batch of medication,” Sakura says, probably to distract herself.

Orochimaru cackles, genuinely cackles. “Oh, I've tried that ages ago, Minato-chan.”

She freezes. A sharp intake of breath. 

“Please,” he says, scoffing. “Your distinct lack of Genitalia is quite noticeable to my enhanced senses.”

Sakura turns red and fights her urge to run away screaming.

“Like I said,” Orochimaru reiterates, and Sakura wonders when this conversation took such a strange turn, “you won't have any luck with these pills. But I managed to develop a serum based on blood samples Tsunade provided me with.” 

He opens a cupboard to her left and – it's a freezer – takes out two vials, places them carefully in a holder, and his tongue darts out between his lips, a hint of black at the back of it and then it's gone like she only imagined it.

Sakura eyes the vials warily, not sure it it's safe for the human bloodstream. Orochimaru doesn't bat an eyelash at her scepticism, but he does roll his eyes, flicking his wrist impatiently. “I have an entire case file on all the subjects who have tested the hormones, and it hasn't had negative influences on me either, so you really don't have to worry.”

He's presenting her with something she's been looking for for a long time now. “I'll have to run my own tests,” she tells him weakly.

It's just her luck that Jiraiya drops by for a visit less than a week later and teases her relentlessly about her lack of tact concerning Orochimaru's gender identity. “They don't care,” he explains. “At all. Is this the point where you tell me _you_ care, you're a girl and I'm supposed to act surprised?”

She kicks him for that. Hard. But she hugs him after, and gathers the courage to tell her team the next day.

“I knew it!” Mikoto exclaims excitedly. “There's no way guys can be as neat as Minato-chan. H- She even cooks for me!”

Hizashi sees her hopeful expression, softens for a smile and kisses her cheek lightly. “That's how you greet little sisters in my clan.”

Sakura feels on top of the world.

One day, at breakfast – which she has taken to preparing, _no, thank you, Mikoto_ – she belatedly realizes that she has been taught by all three of the Sannin. How's that for a useless little fangirl, eh, Kakashi?

Then she winces. Right. Kakashi exists. She will be teaching him and fail spectacularly at drilling social skills into that thick skull. 

Sometimes, she wonders just how Minato pulled all of this off with his sanity intact, and won a woman like Kushina over.

She blushes heavily, eyes drawn to where she has the baby-making stuff stored away. “Hi, Naruto,” she says, giggling. “How's your morning looking?”

Mikoto peeks around the corner, hair wrapped in a towel. “Minato-chan? Did you say something?”

“No,” Sakura wheezes, knocking back a glass of water. “Not at all.”

And that's that.


	4. the world began.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She's felt inadequate for a very long time, snapping at the heels of the lines the Fourth Hokage left in history. Finally, finally, she's getting something right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this!! is it!! part four is finally unveiled and I'm so excited to share it with you!!! it turned out very plotty and very long so I'm curious to see just how much of the hints you caught 
> 
> [insert more gushing] I hope you'll like this half as much as I do, because I'm doing a lil victory dance as I post this (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

PART FOUR. THE WORLD BEGAN.

* * *

Sakura passes her Jounin exams with flying colours, and as a treat, she files for extended leave. She doesn't plan on actually unwinding though, she really just wants to spend more time working on unravelling the Second Hokage's sealing pattern and make one for herself.

It goes relatively smoothly until Kushina barges into her apartment declaring Sakura a hopeless case, and shoves her finger at the scroll laid out in front of her. “You,” she says aggressively, “need an anchor point that matches not just your yin signature but your yang pattern as well.” 

Sakura gapes at her. How come she never thought of it that way?

Kushina clasps their hands together and drags her outside. “This clown Konoha calls its seals master really doesn't hold a candle to Mito-sama, what has he been teaching you?! How to make sealing scrolls? For the love of – “ The redhead halts, turns, and curves towards her. “Cat got your tongue, Mina-chan?” She breathes against her ear.

Sakura feels hot, and her hand, the hand that holds Mikoto's, is unbearably so. She gulps.

Kushina's blue eyes drag over her intensely and then she flips around, announcing cheerfully, “We're going on a date, 'ttebane!”

Sakura stumbles after her.

Kushina stops marching abruptly at the corner to Ichiraku's. “Good manners,” she insists. “You're about to meet the greatest Ramen chef outside of Uzushio!”

Sakura nods helplessly, and feels guilt like a weary ache at the name of the village she failed to help. She's almost led herself to believe that it wasn't her fault, too.

But Kushina is a great conversationalist, and she has asked Sakura on a date, demanded one really, so it's easy to let herself forget her own guilt that afternoon.

Her suggestion – incorporating elements from her unique spirit and body – turns out to be the missing piece of the puzzle for the Flying Thundergod Jutsu. 

Mikoto and Hizashi gift her a set of three-pronged kunai on her fifteenth birthday, claiming that they've seen her designs on it scattered across the apartment at some point, and Sakura hugs them tightly, not questioning their explanation. Hizashi has practically moved into Mikoto's room by now and they're not exactly quiet about making out, Sakura's really just glad they've stopped dancing around each other. She does ask for the manufacturer, a weapon's smith called Kenken.

“He used to be an accountant, but turns out, he's got a knack for metalwork, and my cousins swear by him,” Mikoto insists. Sakura scribbles his address down somewhere. She folds it neatly away for when she is ready to make jumps in battle and needs more focal points.

Sakura is not ashamed to say that she runs to the nearest training field at top speed, launches one of the kunai at the other end of the clearing, the image of the sealing array edged into her mind. She feels for the kunai with her chakra and tugs.

The world blurs around her and snaps into focus a moment later, a different angle, a different perspective. She jumps in exhilaration – she did it! But her senses are off-balance from the spatial jump and she is sent sprawling into a graceless heap on the ground.

“This means practice,” she whispers to the tulip blooming next to her face.

Sakura can't stop grinning like an idiot. She's been grinning a lot lately, and most of it has to to with Kushina, but Sakura has always been out for achievements, especially academic ones, and sealing? Sealing is science and art, and a field she really can take pride in contributing to. She's felt inadequate for a very long time, snapping at the heels of the lines the Fourth Hokage left in history. Finally, finally, she's getting something right.

* * *

Again, it's Orochimaru who snaps her out of it. He becomes more tight-lipped around her, and he doesn't look happy about it. She's not his assistant anymore, but something else has changed, too. It weighs heavy between them, and Sakura can't help that twinge of suspicion jolting through her when she notices.

His office is cramped with inked-out reports, sealed reports, and the makeup does little to hide the deep bags under his eyes.

“You need to talk to her,” Yamanaka Inoko insists, rolling her shoulders after one of their sparring matches. She's a poison specialist and throws Senbon like Shizune did, but she's almost as fast as Sakura, too, which means she's an ideal partner to practice her newest technique with.

“Talk to who?” Sakura asks, tilting her head with a frown.

Inoko sighs and bends down to collect one of her projectiles. “Orochimaru-sama,” she elaborates softly. “My department relies on her research as much as most others do, but we know what it's like to be feared beyond reason. Just ask Mikoto-san.” 

The Jounin shifts her body into familiar post-workout stretches, and Sakura mirrors her, thinking about the storm that must be brewing for a T&I Yamanaka, an _ANBU_ Yamanaka, to approach her this openly. Inoko shifts her left hand into a deliberately casual sign, and Sakura doesn't recognize it, but she commits it to memory and resolves to ask Mikoto about it later.

Well, she really can't keep ignoring the warning flags then.

Sakura wastes no time and doesn't wait for nightfall like an amateur before she descends into the heavily guarded research facility, wearing a complicated layer of seals to disguise herself with an added Genjutsu on top. No one pays her any attention, both researchers' and posted shinobis' glances slide right over her, like she's the most unassuming person to walk these halls.

She dismantles the security seals on Orochimaru's office, knowing that he won't return for another two hours, and secure in her belief that he would never let anyone step foot in here on their own.

Sakura goes through his scientific reports and mission assignments with a light touch, and paces the room impatiently. There must be something, a clue she's missing.

She checks the room again, and then the clock. She has hardly any time left until she has to leave. Her eyes dart across the shelves, the carpet, the desk and the tables in the corner.

Front, Left, right, behind, above, below – oh.

She's never really looked at the ceiling before, and she remembers, remembers all too well the first time she helped Orochimaru out. “A way to suspend a water body above ground and anchor it there,” she mumbles, a faint echo of the seal she devised for him. 

Sakura quickly dispels the subtle Genjutsu above her head, but only after she got a good look at it, confident that she can recreate it. The change in light is immediate.

Above her, like an empty fish tank without glass walls, a ceiling made of a lilac fluid. It bathes the whole room in purple because there's a light source above. 

She realizes three things: One, Orochimaru is definitely hiding something. Two, this is most definitely not water, and she doesn't have enough confidence in her poison resistance to go anywhere near that stuff. Three, this makes an excellent defence especially if Orochimaru is immune – probably, definitely – and someone is threatening him in his office.

In conclusion, Orochimaru is scared. Scared of someone important, who's presence in this building no one would question. He'd just have to deactivate the seal for the poison to come down barrelling.

Sakura feels an uneasy twist in her gut and reapplies the Genjutsu swiftly, resolving to come back when she has more time on her hands. They are shaking just a little bit when she activates the security seals, leaving behind no trace of tampering, and she scrambles out of the building as fast as she can without making a lasting impression.

* * *

This is night. Silhouettes creep across the floor like a macabre imitation of the bustling streets by daylight. The shadows grow longer and the air sharper, and it's naked fear that drives her.

She runs home, because she feels bare, one pair, two pairs of eyes sticking to her skin. She feels like she's caught up in a game between people much more powerful than her, and it overcomes her, crawling.

“I'm home,” Sakura announces finally, bolting into her apartment. She straps her gloves off and shuffles out of her boots before entering the living room.

Mikoto presses a finger to her lips, nodding towards a napping Hizashi, and Sakura would smile at the domesticity of the scene if she felt like smiling at all. “Welcome home, Minato-chan” her friend greets quietly.

Sakura shrugs out of her coat and ruffles through her long locks, unravelling the hair tie in one smooth motion. “I have a question,” she says conversationally, and Mikoto tilts her head in indulgence. “What does this,” she twists her hands into the unfamiliar contortion she copied off of Yamanaka Inoko, “sign mean?”

“What's this for?” Mikoto looks at her in confusion from where she's snuggled against her boyfriend, blanket draped all over their couch. 

“Some goofy ANBU played a prank on me,” Sakura lies quickly, plopping down on the floor. She chunks her weapon's pouch away and strips out of her flak jacket.

The silence stretches less than a minute, but it sets her on edge while it lasts.

“Tongue,” Mikoto tells her nonchalantly, attention already back on the book in her lap. “The sign means tongue. Maybe they want to french you.”

Sakura forces a smile, fingers twitching towards her pouch. “As if I'd let them,” She says blandly and rises, hurriedly making her way to the bathroom. She locks the door behind her and slams four security seals on the walls, one on the floor and the other on the ceiling. Then she drops in a low crouch and presses her forehead against the tile, leaning against it, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees.

“Fuck,” Sakura summarizes, horrified. She thinks of the glimpsed hint of black curling on _his_ tongue and wonders belatedly if he's been dropping hints left and right with his habit of flickering it out of his mouth.

Orochimaru is ROOT, and that changes _everything._

She can't bring this to the Hokage's attention, because he once chose Danzo over Orochimaru, sacrificed an entire Clan for his old Genin teammate, and she bets he'd do it again in a heartbeat.

Sakura gnaws at her bottom lip until she draws blood. Who can she trust with this? ROOT may still be in its baby shoes, but Danzo is powerful, he's influential and she doesn't know if she can win against him.

Just knowing of his hand in these experiments puts everyone she loves in danger. And she's been so selfish, so inattentive, too preoccupied with what little happiness Minato was supposed to have in his short life, and she's stolen that from him like some ungrateful thief –

“Okay,” Sakura says breathlessly. She will have to get back inside Orochimaru's office.

The next day Mikoto is sent on a long-term mission, probably infiltration, and Sakura can't help but feel glad that at least one of her people is out of the village while she goes snooping. Jiraiya doesn't really count. As Orochimaru's... _something_ he's involved in this mess by default. Kushina hasn't told her why she's not allowed to leave the village, but Sakura suspects it has something to do with her bloodline, being the last of her clan and female to boot. Hizashi hasn't taken missions outside of the city boundaries since their Genin days, required and happy to shadow his twin during most of the day. He still works in Intelligence, is not half as lax about it as Mikoto, and it's all very hush-hush, so Sakura really has no idea what exactly he does there. 

Probably tighten security, intercept messages, send messages, keep an eye out for patterns and people who break them.

Like her.

When she returns to the lab it's as herself. She drops by unannounced, as she has a habit of doing, and pretends to be oblivious. She works on her latest project all by herself, the Rasengan. It's deeply ingrained in her mind as Naruto's trademark technique, but in order for him to learn it she first has to pass it on to Jiraiya. And she hasn't dared approach it since that disaster of an attempt that almost cost her her hand, instead focusing on the Hiraishin.

And she's glad for it, because it's going to come in handy really soon. First, however, she has to make sure that nothing in her life seems out of the ordinary. Danzo probably has eyes everywhere, and definitely in Orochimaru's research centre.

So she forces her mind to focus, finds herself a lab station and unseals the materials she needs from one of the storage scrolls she carries around with her practically everywhere. With the help of chakra conductive metal and Kenken, the weapon's smith who now supplies her with three-pronged kunai, she's been able to build a device that looks like a ball from the outside, but on the inside it's a three-dimensional maze with almost microscopic pathways.

Presently she's etching seals into the exterior so it doesn't explode on her when she tries to channel chakra inside. Sakura has almost impeccable chakra control, always had it, but nature chakra is giving her more trouble because it lacks the purity she was used to as a medic.

Ergo, she built herself something resembling her calculations of how wind chakra should spin in her palm for a successful Rasengan. One that actually works in that it skewers everything _but_ her hand.

She tinkers away for an indefinable timespan, but eventually her concentration wavers so she seals her work – almost done – away and makes her way outside. 

Nightfall greets her like an old friend, but Sakura barely manages to catch enough sleep with Mikoto gone and the crippling tension that had her putting up barrier seals rivalling a fortress.

* * *

Nothing happens and no assassins come for her, but the next few weeks feel hellish. Sakura is on edge, precariously so, and it grains on the people around her so much that eventually, when Mikoto returns, she drags her on a double date with Hizashi and Kushina, supposedly to cheer her up. It's nigh impossible to get in Orochimaru's office unsupervised and that tremble in her shoulders is hard to hide.

Ichiraku's – because Kushina refuses other sustenance than ramen and chakra pills point-blank, and a soldier pills restaurant thankfully hasn't opened yet – becomes the stage for what goes down in her carefully coded diary, a journal with just enough truth to it to make it believable, as Sakura's Worst Date Ever, Worse Than That Time Pig Set Her Up With Shuriken.

It goes like this. Kushina has worse table manners than Kiba ever did and Mikoto scrunches up her nose at the tenth bowl she licks clean, already reaching for the next one.

Mikoto is leaning against Hizashi and he only has eyes for her. Sakura feels like she's fifth-wheeling the evening, between him and Mikoto, and Kushina and her ramen. She droops over her food and pokes it with her chopsticks.

“So,” the redhead says by the end of it, grinning. “Split?”

They do end up splitting the bill between Hizashi and Sakura, and the ramen chef looks at them in pity. “They sure have you two on a tight leash,” he says, a smile tugging on his lips.

Hizashi chuckles, a deep and rich pleasant sound, more so than the croaking voice he only recently grew out of.

They start their hike up the Hokage monument at a leisurely pace, hoping to see orange and pink gradually soak into the sky at dawn. 

Somehow, ten minutes later, Mikoto and Kushina are best friends and Sakura still hasn't had a single moment alone with her... girlfriend? She trails after the chattering girls, two of the most important people in her life and the third right beside her, and feels terribly alone.

The horizon is awash with colours, tender little clouds floating next to still-visible stars. They dangle their legs off the First Hokage's head and watch in pensive silence as light floods the village, illuminating the little red rooftops they've walked all their lives. This is Konoha. It's Sakura's home, and her heart aches for what's to come.

It's a quiet day.

* * *

Finally, when autumn gives way to winter, Orochimaru is called out of the village to see the Daimyo. Sakura has been lying in wait for an opportunity like this, so his absence is all the prompting she needs to break into his office again.

She's armed with a set of three-pronged kunai and she took care to buy spare gloves that cover her fingertips well over six weeks ago. Seeing as how she expects to get up and close with poison.

She makes quick work of the Genjutsu and sends a kunai surging through the wall of fluid. Only her chakra-enforced throw lets it accelerate with enough force to break through the surface and bury itself into a wooden beam high above.

Letting out a shaky breath, Sakura closes her eyes, pinpoints her anchor and disappears soundlessly.

Immediately, her arms wrap themselves around the beam and she stays like that, heart pounding in her chest, until the world stops spinning and she feels secure enough in her control to flip and crouch on the beam. 

She surveys the room for threats, but it appears empty save for a door. Then she reapplies the Genjutsu on what is now the floor.

With a sudden jolt to her limbs, ripping her weapon out of the wood and sealing it away with great care not to be poisoned, Sakura realizes she just thoughtlessly left a mark in it. No Shinobi worth their salt would miss it, and Orochimaru is the smartest bastard she's ever met.

Her mind is racing, considering and discarding possibilities left and right, and Sakura knows that there's just no way for her to cover this up quietly. Either Orochimaru will know of her tampering as soon as he gets back, unable to tell by whom, or she risks him finding out later and attributing it to her. Such is the decision Sakura has to make, has to make fast, a choice between genjutsu and henge, and a seal.

Does she trust Orochimaru? She really, really doesn't know the answer to that. He'd find a way to report the breach to Danzo – if he's even aware of this place. A way that doesn't incriminate her. If he wants to. But does he?

Sakura gnaws at her bottom lip, but she has more faith in a seal than in any of her other skills, so in the end, she decides on that, already convinced that she's making a terrible mistake.

She wishes for a world in which she can heal plants and curve wood to her whims, reaches for her smallest brush and her quick-drying ink, sketching out a quick seal on the wood.

Carefully tucking away her supplies, Sakura channels chakra into her feet and crosses the room upside-down until she reaches the small patch of solid floor, which she, after closer inspection, places her feet on. The door stretches out in front of her, but it's merely an illusion and she dispels it quickly. In its place a snake hisses at her, head bobbing where the handle used to be. It curls in on itself momentarily, retracting and ready to strike with a tension that ripples through its body. Sakura side-steps the fangs and darts behind the animal, slapping a paralysis seal on its scales.

Ducking around the corner, Sakura finds herself in a small windowless square. She eyes the large desk, the shelf and the futon in the corner warily. 

This looks cosy. In the way the more comfortable cells in T&I look. Sakura shudders and, not trusting this just yet, stays alert as she inches forward. But no snakes snap at her heels and no batch of kunai is launched at her. 

Orochimaru needs some space where he can let down his guard, and she suspects she's found it.

That doesn't mean nothing here is laced with poison. Everything is probably laced with poison, and she's really glad none of it appears to be fast-acting and gaseous – something she hasn't even thought of before – because if she is hit with slow-acting poison she can still flush it out of her system.

Sakura feels rather stupid, but she shuts a mental door on the self-deprecating thoughts and focuses on getting what she came for. Information and, ideally, incriminating evidence. She starts with the desk, careful not to trigger any traps, and then moves on to the wall where reports upon reports are neatly stashed away, labelled with dates.

She goes through all of them, countless pages of sickening words, and she's not squeamish, can't afford to be, not as a former medic, but some of the child experiments documented here leave her nauseous. This. This is what she'd expected to find from the start, curious detachment mixed with a horrifying disregard of ethics.

Most of the reports here describe experiments on test-tube babies or orphans, gene editing. There is an entire section that unveils clan secrets, specifics of bloodline limits jotted down neutrally. Details that no one in their right minds would ever steal, because the entire clan would come after you. And Orochimaru's been trying to recreate them, based on blood samples, skin tissue, stem cells from bone marrow of some of the most prominent late shinobi the Elemental Nations have ever seen.

Maybe it would have been excusable on orders, during war times and if these experiments had not been performed on what should have been legal Konoha citizens. If Orochimaru hadn't stolen from allied clans and most of the children he's experimenting on wouldn't die from it.

She looks at charts and diagrams and reads tidy observations, and then she turns the page to photographs.

Sakura reels back. She feels horror, disgust and _anger_ wash over her, hot and cold, drowning out her attempts to understand what drove him.

She tries reconciling what she sees with the Orochimaru that helped her transitioning and the difference is far too jarring. An acerbic, impatient scientist? Sure. But the monster slipping into her nightmares, her _head?_ She's been seeing him as two people for a while now, and maybe that's where she went wrong. Maybe he really is just that good of an actor.

Then again, she's seen the way he looks at Jiraiya, the way he relaxes around those he trusts, and she can't help but wonder. Can anyone really fake that?

Rationally the answer is yes. Of course they can. But she remains torn regardless.

Sakuras hands linger on yellow post-its with quickly jotted-down numbers. Twenty-eight. Fourty-three. Eleven. She shrugs, thinking little of it, and finishes copying the reports she picked – sealing duplicates come in handy – and sneaks the copies into the shelf, pocketing the originals. Nothing is out of order. She makes sure to remove the piece of paper on the snake just in time for her to grab for the three-pronged kunai in her apartment's locked bathroom and then she yanks.

Self-doubt has her lying awake that night, tossing and turning under her sheets, thoughts straying. 

His hand writing was different. Neater and more impersonal, somehow. Still distinctly his own, but there were fewer letters slanted with a tilt. What exactly does that seal on his tongue do to him? She has few questions, and fewer answers, but they are vital all the same.

Is she chasing ghosts, blind to what's happening right in front of her? It leaves her no rest.

Light seeps into her vision as the sun rises. Konoha rises with it.

With a jaw-cracking yawn she sets out for the Hokage's office and files for a return to active duty. For what's to come she needs to get back into shape. It's a different kind than the one she fought a lifetime ago, but it's war all the same. Hopefully she can stray from a solo mission at some point and find Jiraiya. They need to talk.

* * *

It happens faster than she dared to hope.

Two months later she's sent on a mission in the land of Tea and she takes the documents with her, folded into her wrist, a storage seal Kushina talked her into getting. Sakura's old self never had ink on her skin, just the crystal in her forehead, but then again, she also hadn't had a sealing expert at hand, let alone been one.

Kushina knows exactly what she's doing, judging by the black pattern on her skin and the way she only wears short-sleeved mesh under her vest, ready to draw on any of the seals decorating her arms mid-fight.

Sakura misses feeling light-headed and carefree, and desperately wishes she could tell Kushina about this, about everything. She wants to be held and kissed and comforted, and she wants it to be real. 

But she can't tell her, can never tell her, not just because it would put the most important person in her whole two lives in danger, but because she would _hate_ her, and Sakura doesn't think she can bear that.

She wouldn't blame Kushina. Sakura's not sure she can live with herself either.

With the weight of all her lies and Uzushio on her slender shoulders it takes her four days to get to Tea. Another week later, she's completed the estimated month-long mission of finding, staking out and beheading the A-rank missing nin prowling the fields. 

Sakura stitches her coat back together and tucks the head away – not in her wrist, she does have boundaries and she doesn't want blood all over the reports anyway, so a body scroll will do. 

The journey to Rice is much shorter and one night at the campfire she cracks up about the irony of meeting Jiraiya there to plot Danzo's and, by proxy, Orochimaru's exposure.

The terrain here is even and the fields make it difficult to stay hidden, so Sakura doesn't bother. She's confident that she can fend off most threats, and outrun them all.

She's begun leaving three-pronged kunai all over the Elemental Nations after all, effectively mapping countries out for her jumps. 

Finding Jiraiya isn't hard once you know the general area. He's not trying to hide either, also confident in his abilities, backed up by his title as a Sannin, and he does try to establish a reputation as an old pervert well past his prime.

Sakura walks into the brothel he was last seen entering – three hours ago – and a beautiful woman approaches her. She tugs at the sleeve of Sakura's coat and purposefully strides towards the bar, sitting her down. She motions for the bartender to serve something.

“What can we do for you, Shinobi-san?” She purrs, tilting her head like a cat, and slowly dragging her large eyes over her body. Her hands are like claws with long, red nails resting in her lap. She wears a dark dress that accentuates her curves, but she doesn't look cheap.

Sakura shakes her head rigidly, blushing. “I'm looking for someone.”

The woman hums and reaches for the drink she was served, taking a sip. “We are a small establishment but even I need a name to know who you're referring to.” She flutters her eyelashes coquettishly. 

Sakura shifts in her seat, distinctly uncomfortable. “I'm not...” She clears her throat. “I'm not here for your... services. I'm looking for Jiraiya of the Sannin.”

The woman's smile is secretive. “How much are you willing to part with, Shinobi-san?”

Sakura sighs, but she unravels a seal in which she stores money exactly for this type of situation.

The woman sizes her up appraisingly. “He's in room 43. Don't worry about disturbing him, no one is keeping him company. Ringo will take you.” She jerks her head towards one of the boys lounging on the sofa.

He leads her up three flights of stairs and turns sharply on his heels after bringing her to the doorstep. She stares after him to make sure he's gone and then she knocks politely.

“What!?” Jiraiya shouts at her from the inside. “I told you not to bother me!”

She gives another soft urgent knock, just to piss him off.

“Fine!” He grumbles, muttering something about not asking for room service, and flashes his chakra to untangle his barriers, ripping the door open.

“Hello, Jiraiya-sensei,” Sakura greets, cheerfully dismissive and purposefully light-hearted, and darts right past him into the small room. 

He pouts at where she was standing a moment ago, and stifles a grunt. “You.”

“Close the door,” she says. “We need to talk.”

His head snaps towards her, chakra sharpening his features as much as his arched brows. He wordlessly closes the door as Sakura settles into the only chair in the room, folding her arms crossed.

She waits patiently for him to re-activate the barriers and then she asks gravely, “How much do you know about ROOT?”

Jiraiya freezes, eyeing her seriously.

She doesn't falter, and calmly continues, “Jiraiya, you're the only one I can trust with this. Please tell me you can help, because I can't do anything on my own.”

He doesn't react, and she almost thinks he's going to send her away. But then he points jerkily at the Sake on the table. “Right, kid. We're gonna need this.” He settles on the windowsill, naked feet on the table, and cracks the bottle open. He doesn't bother filling the alcohol into a cup and downs a fair bit of it in gulps. She waits patiently for him to begin. “Fine. What do you want me to say? That Hiruzen doesn't give a shit about what the council does? Danzo's always been an asshole, but the covert ops as a secret subdivision inside the official covert ops? Reeks.”

“What did you do?”

He barks a bitter laugh at her. “I started digging. It's goddamn difficult to find anything on this bastard, you hear me? It took me literal ages to get a contact that's actually useful. Of course that was until Danzo figured there was a leak, and that was back when he left his soldiers something of a life outside of Root. He had the whole batch killed. I doubt the poor clowns even resisted.” He pinches his eyes shut, taking another generous swig of alcohol, hissing – at the taste, or at what he's telling her. She can't tell. “Last I heard, he's gotten this idea inside his head to take kids and make them mindless drones from the moment they can think. Sensei's sceptical, but it's not like he's gonna step in unless Danzo actually tries to set the village on fire.”

He looks painfully young and old beyond his years. Sakura slides the files across the table. 

She struggles through her next words. “I'm not going to lie to you, sensei. This is hard but you should know about it.”

He sets the bottle down and grabs the first report, eyes widening. “This is –“

Sakura nods sadly, but he doesn't pay her any attention, soaking in the black letters, frantically fumbling for the other reports. “No,” he says, horrified, visibly forcing himself to go through them.

As he reads them Jiraiya crumbles, shoulders sacking down and eyes going slack with emotions. He takes a lung-bursting breath. Releases it. And another one. Lets it out shakily. When he looks up at her again, there's a jaded edge to his jaw.

“Well, shit,” he says humourlessly, tears dwelling in his eyes. 

Sakura doesn't feel much like laughing either, so she crashes forward against his shoulders and throws her arms around his neck.

He clings to her like a drowning man.

“For what it's worth,” she croaks later, “there is a seal on him. And I think it's riddled with compulsions, and that his body is rejecting it. I have no proof.” A hysterical sound escapes her. “But it's something, right? It has to be something.”

He shudders against her neck and together, they allow themselves to hope.

Before she has to leave again, he teaches her a new code and has her sign the toad contract. “I meant to save it for when you get your first team, but I guess it's gonna come in handy now,” he tells her solemnly.

Her signature is shaky, and he clicks his tongue in disapproval. “All those hours spent on calligraphy, and then this idiot goes and pulls something stupid.” Jiraiya's lips twitch into a grimace and he shoots her a tired look.

He sends her off with a cracking voice. “Thank you for coming to me with this.” 

Sakura is next to him in a blur of yellow and he sways in surprise. “What was that?” He asks suspiciously as she hugs him lightly. 

“The Hiraishin,” she tells him, nodding towards the three-pronged kunai she slid into his pocket earlier. “Keep it with you always, unsealed, would you?”

He nods mutely and she lets go of him with a heavy heart. Sakura offers him a quick smile, takes a step back, tugs at the kunai she left a thirty minute run away, and vanishes in a yellow flash.

On the journey to Konoha she feels both heavier and lighter. She makes a stop on the way back to cash in the bounty she's owed, and a second one to summon the toads. She can't afford for anyone back home to get the idea that she's met up with Jiraiya.

They agree to pass on messages between their two summoners.

* * *

Sakura enters her village mid-day, bustling streets welcoming her home, but knowing what she does now there is a falseness to this innocent side, and she can't afford to be lulled into a pretense of security.

“Namikaze-san,” someone calls, and she turns to see a Hyuuga branch member looking down at her. “Hiashi-sama has requested your presence.”

“Hiashi-sama?” She echoes, stunned. 

She nods, face betraying nothing. “It's urgent.”

“Well,” she says, hands spreading with a shrug. “I have to hand in my mission report first, and I think he'd prefer to see me after I've taken a shower, don't you think?”

The Hyuuga hides her smile with the long sleeve of her traditional dress. “Of course,” she agrees, and they part without another word.

She makes quick work of the administrative reason she gave, and returns home. Hizashi welcomes her back with a light peck on her cheek. Mikoto is on a mission.

Sakura strips out of her clothes, heading towards the bathroom. “Why does your brother want to talk to me?” She asks casually, drawing herself a bath.

A loud thunk and a muffled curse tells her that he's heard her. She walks back into the open kitchen. He's nursing his right foot.

“Hizashi?”

He looks at her grimly, not batting an eyelash at seeing her in her underwear. “He wants Mikoto and I to end things. It's a perennial demand, but he will be clan head soon, and he can't show favouritism.”

She meets him at the counter and draws circles on his back with her palms, not bothering to ask why. Hizashi's relationship has been smooth sailing, but not everyone's been as supportive of it as their tight-knit group of friends. An Uchiha-Hyuuga match is bad enough, the possibility of a pregnancy alone, and no one wants a mixed child, but an heiress and a spare? It was bound to stir up some trouble.

“What do you want?” She asks bluntly.

He rolls his shoulder and she lets go of him in response. “Is that even subject to debate!? I,” he pauses, tempering his voice, “I love her, Minato,” he finishes miserably.

Sakura's voice softens. “We'll make this work.” She pulls him into the bathtub then, washes his hair and hums a gentle tune her mother used to sing to her. She takes a quick shower while he prepares something to eat. Together, they watch some stupid movie about a samurai getting his ass kicked by a bunch of Kumo Chunin. They brush each other's hair, and she rests his head in her lap, not letting go of him all night.

She doesn't want to lose this. Doesn't want to lose her friends.

* * *

The next day, Sakura writes Hiashi, thinly veiled threats and a flipped metaphorical finger framed by polite useless words.

She also goes to see Kushina, because the urge to be around her becomes more prominent the longer they're together and the further they're apart. The redhead is beating her chains through the air at training ground 52. She's aggressively twisting around a poor Special Jounin she no doubt pressured into sparring with her and Sakura arrives just in time to see her kick him in the balls. She winces sympathetically, but doesn't offer to heal him. It's his fault for not dodging.

“Hey, Kushina,” she calls, and the woman whips around to look at her, anger dissipating as soon as she sees her.

Chains wrap themselves around her and Kushina pulls her across the clearing right into her arms.

“Mina-chan,” she says softly, breathing right into her mouth, and they only have eyes for each other. “I missed you.”

Sakura leans into her. “I missed you, too.”

And, later, “What's wrong?” They're in Kushina's apartment, limbs tangled around each other, and when Sakura presses her head against her girlfriend's chest, she can hear Kushina's steady heartbeat.

“I want to leave the village,” she answers eventually, hand caressing Sakura's hair.

Sakura listens to the drum of her rising chest and stares at the ceiling. “For good?” She can't help but ask.

Kushina shakes her head, and when she does, her whole upper body moves, too. “Where would I go? No. I want to go on missions. I want to return to Uzushio,” Sakura stiffens in her arms, “and I want to find what's left of my people.”

Sakura snuggles down, pulling the blanket over them as it is still February and the jumpers they're wearing won't keep them warm. Kushina switches off the light. They drift off to sleep like that.

* * *

Time passes in a blur of people entering and leaving her life. Sakura begins relaxing just a little bit, for Jiraiya has been a steady correspondent, reassuring her that he's making preparations, and now that she's back on active duty, she has an excuse to avoid Orochimaru. Tensions still run high when she stops running and pauses to think, so she decided it's best if she keeps herself busy. The star-crossed lovers theme continues, and the latest news is that the Uchiha elders are pushing for a marriage contract between Mikoto and 18-year old Uchiha Fugaku. Sakura snorts when she hears that, mainly to hide her worry.

She remembers Fugaku as a spoiled arrogant kid who used to beat her in fights. But she also remembers Sasuke's story, and she knows that her Mikoto can never be his mother.

They're stiff around each other, Mikoto and Hizashi, both torn between what they want and what they've been drilled in all their lives. Honour. Duty.

Sakura knows it's rubbish, and she wishes she could just make them see, but they both insist that she doesn't know what it's like to grow up in a clan, and she has to concede that argument.

She also makes the Third grant Kushina and her leave for a two-week trip to Uzushio on Kushina's birthday. It takes a month of arguing back and forth, roaming his office like a persistent wildcat – and she doesn't get why he's being so patronizing – but he budges, eventually, after making her demonstrate that she can now perform the Hiraishin on someone else, too.

Relief, and anxiety fill her when she tells Kushina. She stares at her in shock, and then she kisses her.

June comes around fast, and Sakura has a tense week of tinkering at her metal-device before they leave, finally finishing the seals on the outside by the end of it. She runs into Orochimaru twice, and he complains that she's too busy to help him out these days, that his new lab assistants are all completely useless. He also mentions that “that idiot” Jiraiya should get his “sorry ass” over to Konoha more often, and they bond over that right until he mentions that Tsunade's and his sex life needs spicing up.

She thinks she handled that second encounter well, seeing as how she waited to flee until after he made that casual comment.

Sakura decides not to dwell on it, _thank you very much._

* * *

When July comes knocking at her door, Sakura shoulders her responsibilities, kisses Hizashi and Mikoto goodbye, and steps out to confront Kushina and her demons. 

They don't talk much on their way to Uzushio because they are both restless. They run at top speed to make the most of their time and they don't have much to say to each other.

Kushina is chasing the origins of her soul and Sakura doesn't have the right to take away from that.

She has been sitting on secrets stacked up to a crossroads, and she's lost sight of the ground. Fear has had her in its iron-grip for years now, ever since her own carelessness cost entire families their lives.

It's time to tell her, but it has to be where it hurts Sakura the most. There has to be some sort of meaning to it, some punishment. She's not asking for redemption or closure. But it has to be across the sea, so they water-walk on waves, avoiding whirlpools to get to the island. 

Uzushio is a village razed to the ground, a far cry from hospitality and a carcass more bare-boned than Sakura has ever seen Konoha. It does hurt.

They camp out on the cliffs that night, surrounded by ghosts.

The stars blaze at them like diamonds on velvet, and the fire crackles in the chafing wind. Kushina is furious, pacing the grass, kicking at the dirt, and Sakura stays quiet. She knows what it's like to pull out your memories from the ruins of your childhood, now knows what it's like to be an accessory to that crime, too. 

“You know what?” Kushina raves. “I'm not going to be like Mito-sama. I'm not going to be caged away in this village all my life. For what?” 

She's not talking to her, Sakura realizes, she's talking to memories, staring them down, and a bitter laugh escapes her. 

Far below them, the waves break at the shore. 

“Some choice a couple of old geezers made for me when I was five? I was a kid. And I was dragged away from my parents, from everything I've ever known, and I believed them when they gave this bullshit reason of carrying the Kyuubi being some great honour. It hates me. It hates me for being his jailer, and you know what? I can't blame it. Not knowing exactly what it's like to be locked away from what it means to _live.”_

The Kyuubi – 

“I'm not a feeble little girl anymore, 'ttebane!” She shouts. 

Sakura's thoughts run in circles. Kushina is a Jinchuuriki. And with that, everything falls into place.

She seethes, but her voice has exhausted its power, and she talks with a sharp edge to it now. “I'm a kunoichi, and it took me thirteen years to get back here. Thirteen years! My – my people ask for blood, and I will give it to them. I may wear the Konoha sign, but I wear Uzu, too. It runs in my veins, and it's inked into my skin. The Third shouldn't think for one second that I owe his village _anything.”_

Sakura trembles, knowing that she can't hide from the confrontation forever, knowing that she will have to open up to her about her own part in Uzushio's fall. She owes her that much.

“Please,” she reasons quietly five days later, after Kushina paid her respects and when they walk the dunes, the sun glaring daggers at them. “I need to tell you something important. Can we sit down somewhere?”

Kushina shrugs and says, “Okay, sure.”

They settle in the long grass and Sakura breathes in sharply. This is the woman she loves more than anything in life. Kushina is beautiful, in every way her personality can be read – and Sakura is drenched in guilt, and it's an ugly thing. She draws air deep into her lungs and opens her mouth.

“My name,” she begins, “is Haruno Sakura.”

Her first life. Her reincarnation. Her crime. Words spill from her mouth, her heart, her soul, and she couldn't stop talking even if she wanted. For the first time in years she looks at someone and she's entirely honest. She puts her trust and her truth in Kushina's hands. Hopes for something, to be screamed at, to cry, to be held.

But Kushina doesn't do or say anything at all, and somehow that's the worst of it.

Sakura sends a last miserable glance at the ruins of Uzushio, at the ruins of her relationship, and pads after Kushina. They keep their tents separate and they don't stray from the way back to Konoha, because Sakura can't really think of Kushina and her as “they” anymore.

As soon as they pass the village gates, Kushina, still damningly blank, disappears into the narrow streets. Sakura flashes to her assigned training ground and sends Jutsu after Jutsu cutting into a tree. She's exhausted soon, heaving pathetically, nothing more than a tiny little girl playing at being ninja.

Sakura never wanted any of this. She didn't ask for a second life and she's too thick to realize what's happening around her until it's too late. What's the point?

She clenches her fist and sends it barrelling towards the ground, cracking the earth wide open.

This is who she is, this is what she worked so hard for in her first life. A combat medic, forever chasing the shadows of her teammates, never good enough to stand beside them. No destiny backing her up, just sheer determination. She had worked herself into the ground again and again. 

Now it's like none of it mattered. Fate twisted the old Sakura into something unrecognisable, to be shoved into this world with a mountain of expectations tying her down. Oh, the irony.

Sakura sinks to her knees and shakily wraps her arms around her torso, rocking forward. She's a baby again, held by the matron at the orphanage, comforted, safe and protected. 

It's just a bad dream.

* * *

A familiar voice. “Wake up.”

“Sasuke?” Sakura mumbles softly in confusion.

“Minato, wake up,” it insists, far gentler than her old teammate could ever be.

Sakura jolts up, a kunai ready in her grip. It's knocked back by slender hands and Mikoto blurs into her vision like watercolour.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” She asks mildly, crouching down next to her. “You've got a bed, you know.”

Sakura's throat is raw and she mutely shakes her head. She lies in the wet grass with her battered cloak, unable to elaborate. It has rained.

Mikoto pulls her into her lap and presses a kiss to her forehead. “It's okay. You don't have to say anything.” Sakura leans into the embrace. “Come on, let's get something to eat. Breakfast sounds nice, right? I promise I'm not going to be the one cooking it.”

Mikoto helps her stagger up to her feet and they make their way to one of her favourite cafés, one Sakura hasn't been to yet.

They place their orders and the waiter discreetly leaves them alone after he brought freshly brewed green tea to the little corner they picked for themselves. Taking a generous sip of her ridiculously pink mug, Sakura sinks deeper into the cushions and tentatively allows herself to relax. She's tired.

Mikoto watches her patiently and Sakura looks to the street outside. A civilian sells fresh fruit right at the crossroads, and a haggle of people barter with him for food. A couple of red-faced students dart right past the window, trying their hardest not to miss the attendance roll. It's peaceful, ever so peaceful, because Konoha is not Uzushio – and Sakura would scream if she had the energy.

She lets her eyes wander and they widen when she takes in Mikoto's appearance. Her friend isn't wearing the wrist band Hizashi gifted her.

Mikoto doesn't pry, so Sakura won't either.

They sit in silence and sadness drifts like a dark cloud between them.

* * *

Life goes on, and reality doesn't wait for you to pull yourself together.

While the last days of summer are vibrant in the change of seasons, red-stained leaves are rattled in a haze of skirmishes and fights. It is rumoured that the war starts with a single botched-up mission, and it's easy to blame this on Hatake Sakumo.

Sakura pinches her eyes shut, but the mission posting doesn't go away. She's been called to the frontlines, effective immediately, and there's nothing she can do about it.

She straps into her gear and leaves her apartment in a flash, not bothering to tell anyone where she's going. Mikoto is away visiting the Uchiha compound. She'll know, some way or other. Hizashi hasn't been home in weeks, and she suspects it's because he and Mikoto are taking a break.

Friendships come and go in pieces, don't they?

Posted to a South-Eastern border station, it takes Sakura a few days to get there. She doesn't know the shinobi there very well, but they all seem to know of her. At least they talk about Namikaze the child-prodigy when they think she's not listening.

_“They say he's faster than the Hokage!”_

_“No way!”_

_“He could have graduated the Academy when he was six. My cousin was in that class. She says he was held back because they wanted to make sure he survives the war.”_

_“Well, no one's holding him back now. He saved my life yesterday.”_

_“That's just because you suck.”_

_“Yours truly.”_

_“Ugh.”_

She misses real food and she misses her privacy, and the time spent tensely waiting in between the fighting stretches long. It makes her think, and she tries to avoid thinking these days.

It's a relief when the alarm rings and they're sent out.

Sakura throws three-pronged kunai past the enemy and herself right after. They laugh at the apparent miss and then they choke on their own blood. Her wind cuts like a sword, and she doesn't use her lightning sparingly either, razing Kumo nin, Iwa nin, Kusa nin to the ground almost single-handedly. Plump-faced Genin. Lanky Chunin. Scarred Jounin. She doesn't bother scraping her red-tinted red-splattered red-tainted fingernails clean.

When this stretch of the border calms down, Konoha's asset is sent to another. Rewind. Repeat. Reposted. Before Sakura can question it, her thoughts are squashed, drowned out, until all she can focus on is a haze of faces. She doesn't know them, but she has a vague recollection of how she killed them. Slit throat, lungs torn, heart shredded, cleanly beheaded. Kushina is little more than a distant memory, and she barely thinks clearly enough to write coded messages.  


  
Mikoto,

the sun smiles down on Few of us,  
it leaves  
far too many bruises.

Books don't keep us company, but circades keep awake.

Start folding paper cranes.

Minato

The Genin in front of her shakily receives the missive and she didn't think much of her crazed appearance until then. There are no mirrors at the front, but Sakura thinks she doesn't have any clothes left in stock that aren't bloodied. Why bother searching for a pair if you'll have your hand in someone's chest regardless of what you're wearing? Better spend that time sleeping.

  
Minato,

Morning begins the ritual wheel of the body.[1]

Walk home, brave friend.

Mikoto

A month, a year, a moment later – what does it matter – she's requested by a battalion on the march to Iwa. She licks her dry lips in anticipation. Danzo is leading it.

Her tent is nowhere near his, but she sacrifices precious hours of sleep to stalk out his schedule. He meets a lot of important generals, but none of them are who Sakura is looking for exactly. Then she herself is called forward.

“Namikaze-san,” he says, not looking up from his plans, his hands folded behind his back.

She swallows, shifting uncertainly, her instincts urging her to run and hide. She inclines her head in acknowledgement.

“Do you know why I called you here?” He asks with a low hum, not waiting for an answer before continuing, “It's because of your skill. There is hardly anyone with a higher body count to their name than you. Except for honourable veterans of the last war – ” and ANBU, is left unsaid, “– and this is an offensive that will need the backing of that name.”

He pins her down with his pale hollow eyes. “The civilians won't resist if they fear you.”

Sakura stares back at him incredulously, remembering Konoha, being ten years old and shaking like a leaf from asking her first crush on a date. She remembers being six years old and a water-blonde girl who would become her first best friend stepping between her and her bullies. She remembers staring dazedly at Kushina's smooth red hair for the first time, remembers saying _I want to become a frontline fighter to protect the Will of fire._

Danzo continues, “For this purpose you will have to be visible.”

She'd been thinking about Naruto and Sasuke always leaving her behind, not this ugly backhanded war in which she is little more than a dog on a leash. Sakura would have saved lives, and _she's_ ending them. She can't help but wonder. Are they still the same person?

“I'll have Rabbit,” the councilman nods towards one of his guards, “shadow you.”

Sakura can't quite hide her flinch. _Do they know, does he know, is she compromised?_ She chalks it up to her paranoia – it's only sensible that she's getting protection if his economic strategy rides on the coattails of her infamy. 

He dismisses her with a rigid wave, and she returns to her tent with an agent she barely manages to be aware of in the corner of her eye, already thinking about how to sneak past him.

Three nights later, she cloaks herself with a repellent seal that lets her blend in with her surroundings, especially when there's movement nearby and she mirrors it. She casts a Genjutsu on her sleeping space, before jumping to the nearby forest, a crisp dying thing. Overhead the moon has set by now, and a slight drizzle has the mud squelching dangerously beneath her boots as she blurs towards the camp.

There are five people keeping watch on Danzo's tent at all times, and Sakura doesn't intend to draw any attention to herself, so she waits for an opening, a hooded figure entering, and latches onto them.

Inside, Danzo is lounging in his chair, swirling his lavish wine glass like a vortex, alcohol a luxury not one of the people under his command is afforded. Sakura observes him disdainfully and hides her tremble behind a sliver of disgust.

“Report,” he tells the kneeling shinobi, who has drawn back their hood to reveal a blank face and ash-blonde hair.

“Yes, Danzo-sama. There has been a breach in the third facility as of two weeks ago. Orochimaru is furious because the Second's DNA was stolen. We suspect it's someone from the inside, as it has been longer than usual since the scientists have been replaced. He is confident that the perpetrator will be caught soon, as they were, and I quote, sloppy and idiotic.” They pause. “There are no further developments concerning the fugitive.”

“Fool,” Danzo reproaches coldly. “You know better than to trust that snake. I will tolerate no more slights from either of you. As for Subject forty-three? I want her found. She's dealt enough damage as it is.”

The shinobi dips his head ruefully and clashes his teeth together. “Yes, Danzo-sama,” he says firmly.

“Now go.” The blonde figure scrambles to their feet, pulling their hood back up to conceal their features, and Sakura follows him out of the tent without hesitation, not believing her stroke of luck, and quick to salvage the precious information she got, as she doesn't know when else she could hope to sneak past Danzo's guard anytime soon. She's become reliant on the Hiraishin, but it's too flashy to be of use here.

She retreats back to the dry forest that's gotten just enough water from the rain to survive another day, collects her kunai and flashes back into her tent, no one the wiser.

There is still enough time to write a coded message to Jiraiya before they have to pack up and get moving further south.

* * *

Sakura shakily places the scroll on the floor. She's going home to be a Jounin teacher.

When she finally steps back into the village, to life and everything worth dying for, she runs to her apartment, thrusts the door open and throws her arms around Mikoto's neck, leaning into her.

“You look like hell,” Mikoto tells her, and a startled laugh escapes Sakura. 

The moment lingers until Mikoto attempts to wrap her hands around Sakura's torso. She can't help but cringe away, letting go and evading being cornered. Her friend doesn't mention it when she closes the door and says, “Come on, let's get you cleaned up. You know I make a _mean_ hot chocolate.”

Sakura is left alone in the bathroom, and hot water trickles down her back soothingly. She wraps herself in a towel and the chocolate tastes like heaven. She can't quite suppress a wry smile at that thought. Compared to the food at the outposts and the camps, Mikoto is a proper chef.

Mikoto purses her lips in disapproval. “You should never have been out there for a whole year.”

Oh, Sakura realizes belatedly. She's eighteen now.

But her ever-quiet friend elaborates with steel in her voice, “Jiraiya-sensei visited a few months back. He says it's all coming to a close soon. We'll get this bastard and when the war is over, we'll deal with the fallout. We pulled some strings to get you back here, and it took us long enough. Don't think I'm ever going to forgive the Hokage for doing that to you, let alone allow you to go back.”

Sakura doesn't meet her eye, but she tilts her head in acknowledgement. She holds the steaming mug closer to her face and presses it against her cold cheek. She stays home for days on end, and her friend is right beside her. When Mikoto is called away on a high-profile mission, Hizashi takes over without protest.

“I'm really glad you're alright,” he tells her, and she shrugs. Is she?

He coaxes her out of her apartment with the promise of a friendly spar. It's Taijutsu only, for multiple reasons, but mostly so that she doesn't get flashbacks, so it doesn't come as a surprise that the air is knocked out of her lungs ten seconds into the fight – when she's thrown to the ground with a single powerful strike.

She hooks her ankles behind his feet and sweeps them out from under him, surging forward to pin him down in a mounting position. He grunts, jabbing at her with his hands bent, but she's evading him, flipping into the air to land behind his neck. 

“Oh no,” he says quickly, spinning around to counter her hook, and this time she's not fast enough to dodge as he blocks off the chakra pathways in her right shoulder, his hand having seized her wrist.

She channels chakra into her feet and glides out of his grip, thrusting away from him.

“You've gotten better,” he praises, pulling himself up straight.

She smiles wolfishly and heals her arm before they clash in another bout.

At the end of their session, they crash at Ichiraku's like old times, sweaty and exhausted, but mostly just grinning widely at the food they're being served.

As they turn to leave, Sakura's heart skips a beat when suddenly, Kushina is standing in front of her, and it's like no one is there but them.

They stare at each other, wide-eyed, and their silence is a fence between them.

“You... you could have died,” Kushina says stiffly, knuckles going white around the kunai in her grip.

Sakura's throat feels raw, ever so raw, but after a year of silence she opens her mouth and says, “I'm sorry.”

Kushina inclines her head and offers, “I know.”

They don't hug, although they curve longingly towards each other, and it's a start. Sakura takes a deep breath and hooks her arms with Hizashi's, walking back home.

She gets better.

* * *

The newest batch of Genin is slated to graduate in three weeks, and Sakura doesn't even think about the added responsibility of a team until that year's primary teacher, a gruff broad-shouldered Chunin with a wooden stump for a leg, approaches her. He expresses some concerns about the living situation of his top student and shoves a file at her with a no-nonsense demand to check up on her future Genin, before stomping away.

はたけカカシ

The name glares at her from the cover. Sakura had forgotten all about him. She glances at his home address. It's withered clan land she knows from her first life.

“I'm out!” She calls, shuffling into her coat.

“Where are you going?” Hizashi calls, his legs folded beneath him at the table, cooking rice.

“Cashing in a favour,” she says grimly, strapping her boots on tight. She closes the door behind her softly – “But you haven't had breakfast yet!” – and leaps onto the nearest rooftop. 

Konoha isn't small by any means, but she knows how to navigate it, so it's not long until the house that matches her address stretches out in front of her. There are bars on the windows and a dead bird is pinned against the mailbox. She grimaces. This is bad. She stomps up to the door and barges it open roughly.

Hatake Sakumo is little more than a puddle on the floor of his locked bedroom when she storms into it and marches towards him. She catches a flash of surprise skittering across his face. “Who are –“

“Minato. You're coming with me,” she tells him and tugs him out of the drab house. He stares at her curiously, but lets himself be dragged to Konoha's psychiatric facility without protest.

“Yamanaka Inoko?” The desk Chunin repeats with a frown. “I'm sorry, but there is no Yamanaka Inoko.”

Sakura's heart thumps in her chest. “What,” she hisses, lunging forward to grip him by his collar, but a hand snatches her wrist.

“Namikaze-san,” Yamanaka Inoichi says mildly, “Can I help you with something?”

She draws her hand back like it's been burnt. “N-no,” she says shakily. “But he,” she jerks her thumb towards Sakumo, “needs to see someone, as fast as possible.”

The Chunin shakes his head. “I'm sorry, but there's no way –“

“It's okay, Tetsuya-kun.” Inoichi fixates her with his eyes. Sakura swallows nervously. 

“But Inoichi-sama –“

He continues amiably, “Clear my schedule for today. I will be seeing Hatake-san first. I trust you can keep busy for an hour?”

Sakura nods, stunned, walking to the waiting area and plopping down in one of the bright blue chairs. Two hours pass, and she can only stare at the abstract green painting across from her until her name is called.

Inoichi leads her to an open room on the second floor, and tells her to make herself comfortable. She takes a seat on one of the chairs, one with a view outside and he scrapes the chair to his desk across the floor, settling down. He waits patiently for her to say something.

“How...” She clears her throat. “How is Hatake-san?” 

He smiles at her kindly. “I can't disclose confidential information to you, as I'm sure you understand. However, I can tell you that he has another appointment tomorrow. We will try to help him.”

Sakura sinks back into her chair, relieved. “Why am I here?”

He lifts his shoulder in a half-shrug. “To talk. Because I think you want to. Because despite what others might say, we do have a heart, and we don't turn away people who are struggling.”

“But I thought –“ She cuts herself off.

“That we only treat people from allied clans? That may be true for peace time, but we are at war, and while we are hopelessly understaffed because of it, we'll be needed soon, and the Hokage knows it.”

She tilts her head sideways thoughtfully, trying to wrap it around what he's telling her. “I see,” she acknowledges, even though she doesn't. It's harder to think these days.

Inoichi taps his fingers on his desk. “That said, I think it benefits us both if we share some information on the subject of Yamanaka Inoko.”

She blanches. “I don't know who you're – “

He waves her off. “Please, Namikaze-san. I can tell when you're lying. Besides, she's been giving me headaches for a few months now. Not that I ever had the pleasure,” a dark shadow flickers across his face, “but some people have mentioned her to me and she matches the description of four different people reported to the Police Force.”

“Maybe you should take it up with them,” Sakura says bluntly, rising to her feet. “Are we done here?”

He watches her like a hawk. “There are forty-three,” she twitches, “people in our care. You're now one of them. That makes forty-four.”

She knows she's given herself away, but she doesn't know if she can trust him enough to elaborate. He seems to think the same, because he pins her down with bright pale eyes, and adds, “Yes, I believe we are.”

Nevertheless, she returns.

* * *

“Hey,” Kushina says, hand raised as if to knock.

“Hey,” Sakura echoes, having ripped open the door to leave her apartment.

Kushina clears her throat. “Are you free?”

“Yeah,” Sakura says. “Yeah, I am.”

Kushina leads her away from the streets to an open grassy field, the sky a darkening blue around them, whipping around and asking bluntly, “What do you want me to call you then? Sakura or Minato?”

She considers it. “Minato is fine,” she answers quietly, and it's only after she said it out loud that she realizes the truth in that. She's Minato, has been Minato for a while now – and it's not a stolen name, it's her own.

“Okay,” Kushina replies softly. “Minato. I wanted to tell you – I'm sorry.” Sa – Minato blinks owlishly. What for? “I ignored you after Uzushio. I was angry, I wasn't thinking and I needed time. But you needed me, and I wasn't there. And then the war broke out, and you were gone so fast – sending you a message didn't feel right. I wanted to tell you. In person. But I was wrong, too, because what if you had died?”

“It's okay, Kushina. You don't owe me your forgiveness. What I did – It can't be undone.” Minato pulls off a shaky smile. 

Kushina crosses her arms in front of her chest, anger flashing across her face. “What you – stop moping, Minato! You're no more responsible for Uzushio than I am!”

She shakes her head. “But I could have – “

Kushina surges forward, pressing her hand over Minato's mouth. “No. Shut up and listen,” she hisses. “You couldn't have done anything. Do you really think anyone would have believed a random Genin telling them that another Great War was about to break out!? Do you really think my people died so easily?”

Minato swallows, looking down in shame. Then she pries Kushina's hand off her face. “You don't understand,” she says stubbornly.

Kushina frowns, gently adding “You're right. I don't. And I don't have to.”

She doesn't know why, but these words break the dam. Great ugly sobs escape her and her vision swims. They ripple through her like a bone-crushing earthquake and Kushina doesn't hesitate wrapping her hands around her torso and pulling her against her chest.

Minato curls her hands into the fabric of Kushina's vest and cries.

* * *

After that, Minato feels much lighter, and she doesn't mind that the weeks fly by until she's strolling back into the Academy to pick up her student.

“Hatake Kakashi!” She calls and a feral looking silver-haired boy stands to follow her out of the classroom. She's not sure what she expected. Minato had contemplated waiting for a few more hours to pick him up just to get back at him, but contrary to her former teacher, she actually wants to forge a functional human connection. Besides, she already has more power over him than she'd ever dreamed of, and oh – this is going to be fun!

She leads the way outside to training ground twelve, a light touch to her silent footwork, and he follows her at a safe distance.

Minato motions for him to sit down on top of one of the tree stumps, and he follows her direction promptly like it's an order. She herself settles down cross-legged in the grass to face him at eye level.

“Hello,” she says lightly, and he straightens his spine in anticipation. “I'm Namikaze Minato, and I will be your new teacher.”

“You're the Yellow Flash,” he observes. “But you're not very yellow.” He blinks at her curiously. “Are you a girl?”

She nods, pleased. “I am.”

He fidgets, visibly thrown off by the prospect of talking to a girl. “I've never met a girl like you,” he offers, and Minato laughs. “They just giggle a lot and they aren't much good in spars.”

“Are the boys?” 

“Not really,” he answers.

“Well, we all grow at our own rates.” She clasps her hands together and folds them into her lap. “Kakashi, I'd like to get to know you so we can make a good team. What do you think?”

“That sounds logical,” he replies seriously.

“Great!” She exclaims, and proceeds, “As you know I'm a Jounin, and I'm eighteen years old. My specialities are sealing, ninjutsu and healing. I enjoy calligraphy and brain-puzzles, and I really don't like my roommate's cooking.” Her student stifles the laugh threatening to escape his lips, but his shoulders twitch in a dead giveaway. “My dream is to help pass on the Will of Fire to children like you.”

He stares at her, eyes blown wide. Minato adds, “It's your turn now.”

“Why?” Kakashi asks, hastily adding, “Sensei.”

She leans forward, frowning. “Because I want to know more about you than just you name.”

“You've read my file,” he points out. “There's no reason for me to tell you what you already know.”

“How do you know I read your file?”

He scowls below his mask. “I'm not stupid.”

Minato sighs, twisting her hands apart. “No, I don't suppose you are.” 

“When will you start teaching me?” He demands impatiently.

She peers at tiny Kakashi. “You're cute,” she says finally.

He shoots her an offended glare. “I'm a Genin. Genin aren't cute.” 

Then he rushes forward, a kunai ready in hand. Minato deflects with half-lidded eyes, pushing to her feet, suddenly towering over the boy. His hands scratch defiantly at her skin as he struggles against the tight grip she has on his arm, lashing out with a kick.

She flips away, landing on a nearby branch in a low crouch. “Teach me something,” he growls.

From where she's perched he looks even tinier. It's hard to take him serious. “Fine,” she says. “When you can climb this tree without hands I will teach you something.”

He nods seriously and sets to work. Minato observes his increasingly creative attempts bemused. When he figured out how to do approach the challenge, he rises to it and picks it up much faster than any of her Genin teammates ever did.

When he balances the branch next to her, she unseals a scroll with instructions to a lightning jutsu and chunks it at him. He catches is easily. “We'll practice this in a few days. Tomorrow we'll work on water-walking, and then we'll take our first D-rank. Physical conditioning is still our top priority, so don't get used to receiving new jutsu every day. And don't try this unsupervised.”

He nods and flips into the clearing. “Yes, Sensei.”

She hums, following him. “What's your nindo? There's nothing about that in your file.”

“A good Shinobi shows no emotions,” he quotes. “That's not too hard, is it? I don't understand why everyone has trouble with that.”

“Have you been reading that stupid rule book?”

He shakes his head. “I know it by heart, sensei.”

“Why?”

“It's easy. Rules are easy. I don't like people. They're confusing,” he elaborates. “They say one thing and mean another and then they get mad if I don't do what they want me to do.” He shrugs. “And they always want to hug me.”

She drops to her knee, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You don't have to hug anyone you don't want to. And if someone is giving you trouble, you come straight to me.”

“I can protect myself,” he insists.

Minato wrings out a tired smile. “It's okay to ask for help, Kakashi.”

He bats her hand away. “But I don't need it.”

She walks him home anyway, to the dreary house where shards of glass from smashed bottles littler the lawn. The door is ajar and a sudden shiver of dread washes over her.

A gust of wind has Kakashi shaking like a leaf, and when the familiar iron-smell hits her, she pales, throws a three-pronged kunai to be stuck in the front door, and grips her student's shoulders tightly to jump to her bedroom. “Kakashi.” Minato says urgently. “Kakashi, I need you to stay here. That's an order. Can you do that?”

He nods mutely, and she wishes she had more time to take care of him, wishes someone was at home, be it Hizashi or Mikoto, because she really doesn't want to leave him unsupervised right now. But she doesn't know the shadow clone, so she casts a quick Genjutsu on him and flashes back to the house, hoping it's not too late.

The stench gets worse inside, but she doesn't waste any time. Sakura had spent too much time in hospitals for Minato to be distracted by it. It doesn't take her long to find Kakashi's father. He's in the living room in a pond of blood, kneeling hunched forward with a sword sticking out of his back.

Next to him a moment later, she checks for his pulse and relief washes over her when it thrums faintly under her fingertips. “I'm not losing you,” she says determinedly, channelling chakra into her right and pressing it to his wound, while she pops four blood replenishing pills into his mouth, making him swallow them with a jolt of chakra to his nerves.

They make it.

“You saved my father,” Kakashi accuses in a low whisper, a week later when he appears at team practice again. “He was supposed to be redeemed by his suicide but you denied him that!”

“Kakashi –“ She calls, but he's already spun on his heels and turned his back on her.

It shouldn't hurt as much as it does. But she knows he'll come around.

* * *

She has been Kakashi's Jounin teacher for close to two years when at last, Jiraiya returns to the village. He seeks her out almost immediately, Mikoto and Hizashi in tow. Her student peers at them curiously, harsh scowl written off his face by now, but doesn't linger when she dismisses him for the day.

“Minato, my favourite student!” Jiraiya roars, throwing his arms up wide. “Let me give you a hug, it's been too long!”

She dodges his attempt at physical contact and Hizashi says pointedly, “You're her least favourite.” Mikoto snickers, her hands intertwined with Hizashi's again.

“It's alright,” Minato tells them. “There are sound-blocking barrier seals in the ground.”

Jiraiya whistles approvingly. “That's my student!”

Mikoto winces. “Jiraiya-sensei, _please_ keep your weird sealing hard-ons to yourself and thank you.”

He flails. “You wound me!”

“Get over it, old man,” she counters.

Minato cuts to the point, propping her hands on her hips. “So what happens now?”

Jiraiya grimaces, pacing the grass. “We're going to get Orochimaru out, and we're going to figure out how to unseal him. I have a safe house prepared.”

Hizashi frowns and concludes, “But we can't all be gone at the same time.”

Jiraiya shakes his head. “No, that would give ROOT a heads up to destroy what evidence could be used against them and relocate. Danzo has too much sway over the Council and the Hokage. And his men are like roaches.”

Mikoto hums, tapping her feet impatiently on the ground. “You want us to stay behind while you and Minato risk your lives.” It's not a question. And it doesn't need an answer.

“Minato can teleport back and forth for as long as it takes us to research that seal. It's not exactly suspicious for me to leave again soon. I can have a shadow clone stay at a few inns in Fire Country to throw them off-trail. They're going to think Orochimaru deserted.”

“Is that really for the best?” Hizashi asks.

“Sensei is right. We need that information,” Minato says, and that settles it.

Orochimaru disappears on a rainy afternoon, three days after Jiraiya left for the safe house, and his clone for Tanzaku Gai. Mikoto snatches him from the streets and hits him with drug-induced sleep. He may be a Sannin, but she's an assassin, deadly in her own right, and she wouldn't have survived this long if her aim was off. Orochimaru struggles against the drug, hands coiling around Minato's throat, but his grip is weak and she tosses him over her shoulder. They are gone in a flash.

Jiraiya has set the kettle on the table, and Orochimaru wakes up snarling.

“Tea?” Minato offers weakly.

“You,” he seethes against his restraints, killing intent cutting into her like a sword. “How dare you –“

“That's enough,” Jiraiya says from behind him, and Orochimaru stills.

His lips curl into a cruel smile and he rears his neck to see him, stretching his neck to an impossible length. “Jiraiya. Are you here to lecture me?”

“No. Yes. I'm here to help you.”

“Oh, like you suddenly care.”

Her teacher's eyes are pleading. “Please,” he breathes, spinning his chair around and taking his hand into his own. “Please tell me he forced you.”

Orochimaru bares his teeth, and Jiraiya flinches back. “I'm not some damsel in distress. I don't need you to save me. I was doing fine on my own since you left me. Besides, how would you? Little Miss Jounin isn't half as inconspicuous as she thinks.”

Minato eyes the tension in Jiraiya's shoulder and insists, “Come on, sit down. It's just tea and you know we don't have much time.”

Reluctantly, he follows her directive. Orochimaru sneers at her from the other end of the table as she pours them each a cup.

“We want to remove that seal on your tongue,” she says casually. 

“That's not possible, you idiot, don't you think I've tried – “

She looks at him frostily, Sakura's bogeyman, Minato's friend, and they're the same person. “Let me clarify. We are going to remove that seal on your tongue, but your cooperation is greatly appreciated.” She's too kind to say that it's driving him mad.

Jiraiya dejectedly nibs at his tea, while Orochimaru looks contemplative. “Fine. You're welcome to try. But if you end up killing me I'm going to come back from the dead just to kill you.”

“Fair enough,” she retorts, and so she returns to Konoha with a hard copy of his seal.

* * *

Spring rids the soil of frost and Minato picks up two new Genin students. Nohara Rin looks at her wide-eyed, whispering dazedly, “You're the yellow flash.”

“Who?” Uchiha Obito wonders loudly, plopping down in the grass.

Rin sways in embarrassment, bowing slightly. “Please ignore him. Please take care of us, Sensei.” She settles next to her dark-haired teammate.

Minato smiles genuinely at her. “Of course.”

“Really, Sensei?” Kakashi asks, squinting at his new team members.

“Kakashi,” she says with a low warning in her voice, “Don't be like that.” 

He scoffs and shrugs. “I won't babysit them.”

“Hey, asshole! We're Genin, just like you!”

“I'm a Chunin,” Kakashi points out with a scowl, puffing out his chest to look more threatening.

“No way!” Obito exclaims, leaning forward, and Rin sighs long-sufferingly.

Minato's lips tick up in a smile, and she steps in between them, ruffling their hair. “That's what we have introductions for. Kakashi, show them how it's done.”

He twists away from her and leans a safe distance away against a tree. “Fine. Hatake Kakashi, Chunin. Tracker and Ninjutsu specialist. I like my ninken. I don't like people who talk shit about my dad.”

“Your dream?” She teases.

Kakashi glares at her, jerking his head aside. “ANBU.”

Obito snickers and Rin shoves her elbow into his ribs. “Nice to meet you, Kakashi-kun,” she says amiably, bending her hands around her ankles. “My name is Nohara Rin and I'm a Genin. I enjoy puzzles and I don't like arguments. I want to work well with you! I... I don't specialise in anything, as I still haven't decided whether I like healing, taijutsu or investigative work best.”

“Why not all of them?” Minato asks, already growing fond of this girl with the feral-looking clan marks decorating her cheeks. “You seem like someone who works hard. I'm going to teach all of you a fair bit about healing, and you don't have to pick it up just because your chakra control is good, Rin. And you can bet your physical condition will improve soon. You don't have to decide right away, you know.”

Rin’s expression is one of awe. “Thank you for believing in me, sensei!”

“Obito,” Minato addresses the third member. His hair is shoved back by a pair of orange goggles that remind her faintly of Naruto, and his grin is just as carefree, but his clothes are distinctly Uchiha and he had far higher scores in his written exams. 

“Right, sensei! I'm Obito! I love comics and sparring, but I don't really like feeling sore. Oh, and I hate pricks who think they're better than me just because they've had special treatment. I can pull off four fire Jutsu and I'm good at brawling, but I think I'd like to use a sword. Swords are cool. Er, and my dream is to be a badass Jounin who gets to boss the asshole around. Like you, sensei!”

“As if you'd make it to Jounin before I do.” Kakashi sneers heatedly.

They're going to be a good team, Minato decides. Once she's knocked some sense into them.

* * *

Kushina has replaced Mikoto as her room mate, and that was preceded by a few more awkward conversations and a lot of kissing. Everything is really nice. Except the food. She's a worse cook than Mikoto, and Minato hasn't decided yet if it's deliberate so they get Ichiraku take-out every other night, or if she's really that terrible with spices. She's put off deciding on that in favour of investing in an apron and a foolproof rice cooker.

Kushina now works with the Jounin Commander, and no one had thought she'd have a knack for strategy and logistics with her restless and brash nature, but turns out, she's halfway decent enough to get praise from her Nara colleague, and seeing as she's not supposed to leave the village, only planned in as a last resort due to her sheer destructive capabilities, it was a no-brainer to employ her.

She works office hours. It suits Minato just fine, because she spends her mornings drilling her team, her afternoons picking up either lower-rank courier missions that have become much shorter and more efficient due to a few strategic changes in logistics, or visiting Orochimaru and Jiraiya.

They've come up with a way to remove the seal, so one night, Minato sneaks out of their bed and flashes away to meet the two Sannin. She's got a fresh supply of high-quality ink on her, and it takes them hours to draw out the array, because nothing can be out of place. Orochimaru is nude in the centre, hair pinned up and skin covered in kanji that point towards his mouth.

Minato nods towards Jiraiya, signalling that she's ready, and together, they activate the seal.

Orochimaru starts glowing, writhing in pain and when the light fades, Sakura lunges forward with green chakra coating her fingertips.

She moves in to check up on him, but he retches, roughly shoves her aside, vomiting a shapeless black lump on the ground. It scuttles across the floor, bobbing in circles, and Jiraiya has enough sense to trap it under an empty glass.

Orochimaru passes out, but she checks his vitals and concludes that he's alright. Jiraiya gives her an exhausted thumbs-up as she slides the sweat off her forehead, and she returns home to fall into bed with Kushina, boneless.

Two days later, Konoha wakes up to a gigantic snake summons tearing through the Forest of Death in pursuit of Danzo. Orochimaru is detained before Minato can so much as blink, but the old Councilman is already dead.

It's chaos until Jiraiya releases pertinent information to the public, and then it's maddening and scandalous.

The war drags on, and the whole of Team Minato gets field-promotions as their missions grow more dangerous each time. 

Kakashi takes to every drill she has them run and every Jutsu she teaches them like a fish to water, but it's clear that his puppy-nindogs are his passion, and that it's a direct connection to his father, who's retired from ANBU, but runs high-ranking tracking missions every now and then. Kakashi thrives under their tutelage, and, even more importantly, he has his team's back. He really needs to work on valuing his life more, but Minato and Sakumo have come to an agreement with Inoichi, so he gets sent to the clinic for a chat every other week.

Obito is a menace, will always be a menace, but he's also terrifying to meet on the battlefield. He specializes in close combat and although he hasn't awoken his Sharingan yet, a very moot point, he's got fire techniques tripping of his tongue and singed hands from all his practice. He throws shuriken with an accuracy that leaves Minato dazed and he's gotten fairly decent at patching his self-sacrificial teammate up.

Rin is the backbone of her team, the reason they function like a well-oiled machine. Minato has drilled deference into the boys, as she's the most level-headed regardless of her tendency to fade into the background, or maybe even because of it. She still thinks taijutsu is incredibly cool, and she's good at it in ways few would expect looking at her, technique flawless and dancing just outside your reach to get a hit in, so Minato has been teaching her Tsunade's strength. Rin likes herbs and making ointments a lot, and she excels at spontaneous field surgery, so it's obvious that she's Minato's secret favourite.

Minato passes on what she knows and she frets a lot, but she teaches them well, and each of them has a three-pronged kunai stocked in their weapon's pouch. They're good, very good, and she has faith in that, so it's not until she gets assigned an S-rank mission and her team gets assigned another S-rank mission that she truly worries. Kannabi bridge is where Kakashi got his Sharingan in their first run.

* * *

She stands alone on the edge of the canyon and hundreds of Iwa nin stare back at her from down below. A smile tugs at her lips and she calmly turns her back, making her way to the edge of rock between dust and the flora of Fire Country. She turns and the first swarm descends on her. 

Minato jumps into nothingness, lightning fast and crackling into sight just long enough to cut before she flashes away again.

They lost before the fight even began. She has a little boy trapped under a boulder to save, and she's not going to let that rest.

Bodies pile the ground like fallen leaves, but Minato doesn't let her tight hold on the Rasengan dissolve until she's the only one still standing, still breathing – standing still, breathing. She feels for her kunai and tugs at them to collect all, eyes not lingering on the broken scenery.

She has a little boy trapped under a boulder to save, and she's not going to lay him to rest.

“We're going home, Obito.”

* * *

The wind picks up fast after the last skirmishes are starting to settle down. The Hokage has forced a peace treaty out of Kumo and a stalemate from Iwa, but it's not like that village will be in any condition to launch a wide-scale attack anytime soon.

It's enough. For now.

Danzo's trial lasts for weeks, and she is a prime witness, the evidence weighs hard against him. 

Yamanaka Inoko, or Subject forty-three, has vanished into thin air, but one day, Minato comes home to a carefully arranged flower boquet on her doorstep that spells out an elegant _Thank you,_ and all of her friends swear that they didn't send it to her. Minato drops it. Some aspects to her life may remain mysteries.

Orochimaru's trial drags on for months, and again, she's called to the stand, this time to explain the effects the seal has had on him. She grits her teeth through the annoying are-you-sure's and manages not to murder anyone. 

Tsunade comes thundering into the court room and yells some sense into the Jury. She also yells at Jiraiya, yells even more at Orochimaru, and that's when Minato is introduced to her. She ends up yelling at her too, a lot, and proceeds to spend half a year researching how to heal “that fucking mess down there how do you even get off like this?” Minato, already flushed due to the sheer nature of this topic, would give a lot to have an earth affinity again to sink into the floor.

Orochimaru, still under the after-effects of the seal, showed little remorse for what he did but genuine disdain for child experimentation. He relented and insisted that he would never have done it if it wasn't for Danzo and the Council's blessing. So, the court concludes, while they can't trust in his moral compass, his partners are loyal to the village, and that's enough to stop him from crossing this line ever again. He is placed under village-arrest and he hates it with a passion, but it has his partners stay with him and somehow, that's enough.

Hiruzen resigns with little dignity left to his name, and they offer Minato the hat. She declines and instead points them in the direction of Kushina and Mikoto, who could both do a much better job than she ever would. They both shout at her for being stupid, one deeply entrenched in the shadow ranks, the other one finally seeing an opportunity to take missions outside the village, and so she ends up accepting the hat, for better or worse.  
v  
Konoha exhales a deep, shuddering breath, and calms.

* * *

The festival is abuzz, the steady drum-beat of music blending in with pleasant chatter and spices lingering in the air. Vendors have opened their windows to all of Konoha and not far from them, dancers in fox costumes move through the streets.

Minato's path is well-lit by orange paper-cut lanterns. Her hands are interlaced with Kushina's and little Naruto clings to her neck.

* * *

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I got a few things to say but I'll try to keep it short
> 
>   1. [1] is a quote from [this](http://english.emory.edu/classes/paintings&poems/utamaro.html) lovely poem right here
>   2. this is my longest fic ever AND it's complete??? I feel so blessed and really: I learned A LOT writing this so it's always gonna have a special place in my heart. thank you so much for your support! leave me some thoughts (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡
> 



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